Insight
by katharienne
Summary: Post NFA. After the battle won by Angel and his team Spike leaves LA to search his own way. There's another Apocalypse coming and while Angel asks for help the new Council Fred calls Spike. The problem is, he won't come alone. Spuffy [full summary inside]
1. Prologue

**Title: **Insight

**Author:** cereza

**Timing:** Post AtS season 5

**Pairing: **Buffy/Spike, Spike & Other

**Rating: **PG - 13

**Warnings:** None, maybe some stronger language from time to time

**Summary: **Slightly AU, which means that here Fred and Wesley are alive. Angel and his team won the battle, but not the whole war. Shortly after the fight Spike leaves LA to find his own way, Connor joins his father and the Fang Gang is back in the investigation business. There's another Apocalypse coming, so Angel decides to ask for help the rebuilt Council of Watchers. It's up to Fred to make one last phone call and ask along an old friend, who surprisingly won't come alone.

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. And if Joss doesn't ask nicely, I won't let him play with them. Ha.

**A/N: **Prologue, Chapter One and Chapter Two are beta'd by **Adela Nightmoon**. The rest of the story is beta'd by **Fetching Mad Scientist**, who's still working with me.

* * *

_New York, 2004_

Night. Darkness. Cold. Fear.

But she's not alone, she never is, not really. Surrounded by shadows and whispers, all of them in her head. She can hear hundreds of alien thoughts, feel hundreds of conflicted emotions. She is hundreds of different people. Not able to stop them from violating her own mind, she unconsciously clenches her fists and opens her mouth for a silent scream.

Not thinking clearly. Not being herself. Frighten. Lost.

Everybody but her.

Suddenly she doubles over in pain. Her head is filled with animal rage and bloodlust. She feels an urge to kill and slash and rip and oh God…

She doesn't see a Groxlar beast, running down the alley, nor a white-haired man in a black, leather coat. She doesn't hear the sounds of fighting, the punches and growls. Completely lost in strange feelings invading her brain, she is not aware of anything else.

The sensation is gone as unexpectedly as it came. She felt different now. Sadness overwhelms her as she notices a man bending over her.

"You all right, love?" he asks with a concerned look. He gives her a hand and helps her stand on shaking legs. Two feet away lies the beast's body, it's neck twisted.

She looks at the man silently. His thoughts are clear in her mind, they block others and she finds it comforting. In a split second, she learns all about him.

"Hey, I asked you a bleedin' question." He seems to be loosing his temper but she already knows his irritation is fake. He's far more worried than angry.

"I'm fine," she answers, her voice faint and trembling.

"Fine? Oh, I'm sorry, 'seems that my advancin' age makes me a bit paranoid. You were just out for a bloody midnight stroll, right?" he mocks. "Have you gone completely carrot top?! Why the bloody hell aren't you in your bed? The only soddin' place you actually should be in right now?!"

He is yelling and she knows why. He's got a thing for little girls, she thinks, like every other overprotective type.

"Come on, I'll take you home," he mutters, grabbing her forearm and dragging her down the street. "Better start thinkin' about a really good excuse for your folks..."

"I don't have parents," she says calmly. He stops and looks at her, slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry. Hell, girl, just tell me – tell me where I should drop you off – "

She interrupts him, "I don't have a home.".

"How's that?" He asks with amazement.

"I live here."

He stares at her for a silent moment. "Uh, you mean in New York?" She can feel hope in his voice. He is breaking easily and she has already made up her mind.

"No, I mean on the street."

There is definitely something about this guy, something calming and that makes her feel secure. Although she knows that he's a one big lie, from his stupid leather coat to his peroxided hair and a fake accent, even if two minutes ago she learned all of his secrets and God, weren't his previous acts horrifying... There was so much under the surface.

She loved him the moment she _saw_ him.

"Oh, bollocks," he swore, not meeting her eyes. "What am I goin' to do with you?"

She looks at him intently, forcing him to return her gaze. "I'm Carrie," she says with a shy smile.

"Name's Spike." His answer is automatic. Seconds are passing by, while he is trying to make a choice.

"So... I'll go."

"Don't be ridiculous," he growls, still making an attempt to look dangerous. "You bloody well can't go back there. Come on, we'll figure it out at my place then," he finishes lamely and resumes walking.

Carrie smiles at his back, deeply inhaling his scent.

"What the bleedin' hell are you waitin' for?" he says snarkily, sharply turning around.

"Spike? Thanks."


	2. Apocalypse, Now

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. And if Joss doesn't ask nicely, I won't let him play with them. Ha.

**A/N:** Thanks to **Adela Nightmoon**, who beta'd this chapter.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

"It has started," said Wesley, facing the gang. Angel stood motionless in front of him, his eyes fixed on Wesley's face. Connor was leaning against the wall, he seemed to be perfectly focused on a sword he was cleaning nervously. Gunn was pacing across the room, he could never stay in a one place for a long amount of time. Lorne and Fred occupied the couch, silently waiting for Wesley's next words.

They knew that they hadn't got rid of all evil, that they had won a battle but not the whole war. They were properly aware of that and had no illusions. But two years ago they had massacred Wolfram & Hart's LA branch and beaten the demon army and hell, they had earned a rest.

'Two years had passed so quickly', thought Wesley sadly. They even hadn't been given a chance to really heal their wounds and now they had to prepare for a fight. Once again.

"Wolfram & Hart gather their forces," he continued. "Though they seem to have changed the strategy – "

"What do you mean?" Angel interrupted, crossing his arms. "Raising a demon army is just that – raising a demon army."

"Two years ago the Senior Partners used the Circle of the Black Thorn to open the gateway to the demon dimension. That is how they summoned them. So that is how we defeated them."

They remained silent. Wesley didn't have to remind them of this – they remembered.

"This time… This time is different. I suspect that they came to a conclusion from our last encounter about our methods and decided to focus on… a closer reality. Ours. Wolfram & Hart is using all of their resources to win over as many demons from this universe as possible."

"So," Fred broke the silence, "we're dealing with the United Forces of the Undead Earth Community?" she made a weak attempt to joke.

"Yes."

"What does this change?" Connor asked, ceasing his polishing of the blade. "I mean… we fought them back then, we'll fight them now – "

"The problem is," Gunn cut in, "we can't just switch the portal's buttons, make it suck bad guys in and then shut it, like we did. No more tricks like that."

Angel nodded, "The Senior Partners want us to play on their terms.".

"Uh-huh. So… What do we do? We're gonna have to start to bribe demons, 'cos I don't think we've got any chance to find ourselves an army," Connor snorted.

"Thank God you're wrong," his father smiled weakly. "Wes? Put London on the phone."

* * *

Fred opened the door to her apartment, her heart sinking. It – it wasn't fair. After everything they were through, after everything _she_ went through – years spent in this freaking dimension as a cow, madness, uncountable battles, Connor's kidnapping and his great comeback, Cordelia's amnesia and possession, Jasmin, Angelus, the soul's restoring, fighting against the Beast, taking over Wolfram & Hart, Spike's appearance as a ghost, Pavayne, Cup of Perpetual Torment, Cordy's death, her being infected by Illyria, Circle of the Black Thorn, apocalypses and - oh God, she was babbling, she was babbling even while thinking.

It was just… It was just not fair.

After the crushing news, Fred felt like some time alone to think. Preferably without the disturbing babble bit.

She closed her eyes, wondering what was happening at the moment in the hotel. Wesley was probably now talking with someone from the old Sunnydale crew. 'They're going to ask them along,' she thought and felt cold fear overwhelming her. They're going to ask somebody else along. They're going to ask somebody else along to fight their fight. God, how serious it had to be for Angel to decide to ignore his pride and turn to his ex-girlfriend for help?

Fred knew that they needed all the support they could get. Wasn't that just what Wolfram & Hart was doing? Gathering allies, planning, preparing and waiting for the most convenient moment to attack –

That's why they needed all the support they could get. They needed the strongest warriors because they couldn't get into fight like two years ago, only with the enthusiasm for killing demons. Actually, back then they had pretty much a smart plan too, but it was useless this time.

Fred sat down on her bed. She looked at the small table on her right and after a second of hesitation, she reached out and opened the first drawer. Under some old notebooks and other bits and pieces she found what she was looking for. A white, un-addressed envelope.

All the support. The strongest worriors. Old friends –

She stared at the perfectly blank piece of paper.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2004_

"Hey," Fred greeted Spike with a sweet smile. "Can I come in?"

"Sure, pet," he nodded and waved his hand with an inviting gesture. "Uh, sorry 'bout the mess, watch out, it's bloody easy to trip over somethin'."

Fred looked around – the floor was covered with boxes and packages. So it was true.

"You're really leaving," she stated calmly, resignation in her voice. She didn't know why she was so surprised. He told her he was moving, he had told her when, he had even asked her to come along for a goodbye cuppa. And yet she still couldn't believe it, that Spike was actually going anywhere.

"That's the plan," the vampire smiled in reply. This time it wasn't his usual irritating and mocking smirk – this smile was tentative, sad. Even a little shy.

He removed some clothing tossed on the couch and asked her to sit.

"You know, I really thought you were joking," she said, deciding to be honest. "That it was another smart attempt to make Angel think he finally got rid of you. A-and when he wouldn't expect it – bam! – you're there to annoy the shit out of him."

Spike chuckled at the very thought. "You really did think so?"

"Yep. In the hotel we were all making bets."

The peroxide-vampire looked at her fondly, still laughing under his non-existent breath.

"Spike... Why are you leaving?" Fred finally asked. He became serious in a moment, switching moods in the way only he could. Instead of answering, he went to a cupboard and returned with a piece of paper and a pen.

"Fred, you know why. Me and the Poof… We're not gettin' along. A-and I'm sick of bein' one of his bloody loyal avengers, it never agreed with me. I have to go, 'cause if I stay, I won't be able to… to get myself even a soddin' _shell_ of a life. And hey, don't say that I'm _leavin'_," he kept prattling on while writing something in a hurry. "I'm not, not really. 'cause as much as everybody hates it, I always come back. That's my curse," she saw him smiling viciously, his trademark smirk back. He finished his note and put it into the envelope. "No matter what, I have to come back." He handed her the envelope. "Don't open it, until somethin' big happens. I dunno – some brainless git that hurt you and now needs castratin', the Great Poof runnin' out of his precious hair gel. Possibly an apocalypse."

Fred couldn't help herself and hugged him. He became still and awkward, it took him a second or two to adjust to the same idea of somebody hugging him on impulse.

He asked her to _tell those sorry wankers not to get too happy, 'cause soon he'd be back to torture them properly_. He even had special farewell for Angel, which consisted of lots of British curses and insults. As she was heading to the exit, he called to her for the last time.

"Pet? Your plan is hell inspirin'. Expect me to make an entrance at the most inconvenient moment."

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

She stared at the perfectly blank piece of paper.

No matter what, he was always back, that was his curse.

Fred opened the envelope. It contained a number and a small note. She read the message and couldn't suppress a giggle.

_Fred, this is a number to a gu__y who'll know where I am. Remember: castrations, hair gels and apocalypses are all in. Make a call and I shall come to annoy and irritate._

_Lo__ve, _

_Spike_

_PS. Hail to His Broodiness, the Master Poof and the Royal Git-ness, etc. etc._

Still chuckling, Fred reached for the phone.


	3. Enter the Vampire

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N:** Thanks to Adela Nightmoon, who beta'd this chapter and to those who read, enjoyed and reviewed my story.

* * *

_Los Angeles,__ 2006, a few days later_

'God, what a mess', Buffy sighed, making herself comfortable on a couch. The red, round sofa stood exactly in the middle of the Hyperion's hall and was giving her a good view of her surroundings. A few years ago she had come to the hotel by herself in order to remind Angel that he was in no position to make any choices in her love life. It wasn't how she had remembered the place – before it was certainly less crowded, less louder and much more of the site her ex could actually live in. Now it was one big carnival.

Oh, sorry, 'carnival' wasn't the word she should have used – Giles and Angel preferred to call it _the headquarters_ of their special mission. Boo-hoo, like they had never saved the world before.

Or maybe – maybe they hadn't… Well, not like this. They were never that – organized. It was always about improvisation and blessed _I've got a plan_ in the nick of time. And now just look at them – they had become a perfect Little Demon Fighters League. With a hierachy and orders' giving and professional research and –

Of course, she was one of the top guys, as the first, original, real, chosen-one, slayer. She attended all the important meetings and was still making the decisions. Oh, and by the way, she didn't have to slay. Anything. At all. She had whole units of younger slayers to do the dirty work.

God, how much she hated it. How much she missed the old times, all those scooby nights when they were on their own, both with the research and the fight. Back then, they really mattered. They were Scoobies and to be a Scooby meant to be saving the world on a daily basis. Or nightly. Whatever. The point was… Okay, she didn't have a point, she just liked being miserable, 's all.

When Giles had called her, she had been at work, making hundreds of copies of some essential-for-the-world's-balance documents. She had grabbed the phone and gone all happy, just because she heard Giles's voice. The next thing she could remember, she was on a plane, having hardly packed and listening to Dawn bitch about leaving Rome without a chance to say goodbye to her friends.

When she finally had got to the Hyperion this morning, the hotel had been already full of slayers. She'd been greeted by Angel and his friends – Wesley, her ex-watcher, who had become a surprisingly handsome man; his girlfriend Fred, whom she had heard about from Willow; Robin Wood's look-alike Gunn; the green empath demon, Lorne and – and this one's priceless – Angel's son, Connor. She didn't even flinch, she was the confident Buffy and probably that was the most suspicious thing about her behavior.

Oh, and there was Harmony, throwing herself at the slayer, like they had been best friends. Well, they hardly spoke to each other during their glorious high school days. Of course there was that episode with Harmony kidnapping Buffy's little sister and then Harmony trying to kill Buffy and Buffy trying to kill Harmony… But – well – she was just Harmony and her actions were beyond any known earth logic.

Before Buffy could even think that something was wrong, she had received the biggest scooby hug ever. Giles, Willow, Xander… Andrew, Kennedy, Faith, Robin… She secretly glanced at her sister – Dawn looked like she was about to cry.

But still – something was missing.

After a moment the group hug was broken and they were off and then she was left alone in this freaking huge hotel. All alone, because Dawn didn't seem to be as lost as her older sister and immediately found something to work on. So it was just the sad slayer-retirementent and the red round couch and bunches of people she hadn't ever seen before.

And this feeling driving her insane about something-not-where-it-should-have-been.

"He's not here," Buffy jumped, completely taken by surprise. She saw this black guy from Angel's team – Gunn, right? – staring at her with an irritating, knowing smile.

"Huh?" she asked, a bit confused, as he sat by her side, making himself comfortable on the sofa. "Who's not here?"

"Ah, you know – average height, peroxide hair, cool British accent, walking malice," he listed innocently. "The last time I saw him, he was passing by the name Spike."

Buffy felt a slight sting, but there was no way she was letting Gunn throw her off balance. Oh yeah, right, probably that was the name this missing piece was going by…

Of course, Buffy knew he was alive. There was no universe in which Andrew could keep a secret for longer than for a second. At first, she was shocked, stunned and all the way oh-my-god-he's-not-dust-anymore. And then realization hit her with the force of a troll hammer – he didn't let her know. He came back from the deadest dead, after everything they went through, after what she had told him, after so many people she cared about were gone and he didn't let her know. Spike, who could spy on her for whole nights, who was nearly always lurking near her house, who claimed to love her, who had gotten his soul back for her – he didn't let her know.

So maybe she wasn't supposed to know?

The part of her – hell, it was really big – wanted to fly to LA and remind him, that his place was right beside her. Dead or deader-than-dead he was meant to spy, lurk, love and sacrifice everything for her for eternity. And there was this other part – smaller but older and more mature, understanding and unbelievably sad – that was aware that she had no right to make his choices for him, and that he was his own man.

That there was this terrifying possibility he could have stopped caring about her. And that if that was so – she had to let him go.

So yeah, there was this little sting, but there was no throwing off balance for Buffy. No way.

"Color me surprised," she snorted, perfectly uninterested. "Like he hasn't been doing anything other than getting himself drunk to unconsciousness…"

"When I said he's not here, I didn't mean he's not in the hotel," Gunn seemed to be having a really good time. "He's not here, as not here-here.

"That is – "

"He's not in LA," the dark guy beamed at her. God, why was he so cheerful? "He left two years ago, after the big battle. He hasn't contacted us since… Actually, he hasn't contacted us at all," he frowned, thoughtfully. "Well, guess there was nothing he cared about here enough to make a call."

"And you're telling me this, 'cos – " Buffy interrupted, feeling like she was about to explode. She didn't like Gunn, she never would, simply because he's mean and annoying, and prattled about things she's _so_ not interested in, and she just wished he had –

…gone to _hell_.

"I dunno," Gunn shrugged in response. "Just saw you checking out the crowd, like you were _looking_ for someone. I've heard you two were… uh… _friends_, right?"

Buffy's jaw clenched, however she remained perfectly still and calm. But Gunn didn't seem alarmed, because he couldn't have known, that there was nothing more frightening that still and calm Buffy.

"Yeah," she confirmed with bitterness in her quiet voice. "We were friends."

Gunn watched her stand up and walk away. He lost the sight of her the very next second, her petite figure disappeared, blending in the crowd of other slayers. Gunn chuckled humorlessly, thinking he'd finally been even with a certain vampire.

* * *

Two weeks have passed and they were still at the same point. Wesley shut another thick volume of 'useless crap', as Connor liked to call his precious books. 'Treasury of wisdom' his watcher-self had corrected, however unusually weakly.

Wesley reached for another book without conviction. Why was he researching anyway? He had no idea. It was frightening, how clear and straight forward the rules were this time. Evil army versus good army. No loopholes, no cheating, nothing at all.

Just a good ol' fashioned struggle against doom.

With a deep sigh he tried to focus on reading. Reading was his thing. He liked it. He considered it as helpful. He was good at it.

And it appeared to be totally of no use now.

He heard some rumble in the hall, followed by bunch of girlish voices. The Slayers were back from patrolling, giggling and chatting about boys like regular teenagers. The thing was, that they were many things other than regular; and such unconcerned behavior seemed a little inappropriate to Wesley. Well, but they weren't his slayers to watch, teach or raise. Rupert never failed to reprimand him about that.

It was still amazing him, how they managed to carry on with their collaboration. AI and Slayer Central – probably the two most twisted and screwed organizations. This could have just burst if all their grudges and complexes had been revealed.

Because… Who was actually in charge? The necrophiliac slayer with a thing for dead, however appealing, bodies? The broody vampire with an unstable soul and awful hair? The old watcher, a dinosaur of his genre, always polishing his glasses? The young ex-watcher with an innocent fixation on axes? The lesbian witch, whose hobby was dark magic and flaying chauvinists? The black free-lance demon hunter, newly uploaded lawyer, who once sold his soul for a truck? The one-eyed guy with no special powers, but an undisputable demon magnet? The genius physicist addicted to tacos? The former ball of nice, green energy put in the body of a young kleptomaniac? The psychologically unstable son of two vampires, who was attracted to older women? Or the cheery green guy, who loved dreadful, colorful suits?

And they wanted to win against the perfectly organized Evil Incorporated?

My my, wasn't denial a fabulous concept?

"Wesley, could you please join us?" Rupert's voice pulled him from disstraction. With a deep sigh Wesley got up and headed to the lobby. Of course, it was very nice of Rupert that he still valued Wesley's opinion enough to take his advice. On the other hand, Wesley was pretty sure, that most of the time Giles was just aiming for humiliating the former watcher, hoping that he would have no knowledge on the topic. Go team, go.

He found Giles talking with Willow and Buffy's little sister, Dawn. They seemed to be absorbed with some old scrolls Willow were showing them.

"Ah, here you are" Giles gave him a quick glance, before his gaze returned to the papers. "Have a look at those texts," he handed Wesley the scrolls.

"I was doing some magical research on my own," Willow said gently. "You know, trying to find a battle spell that turns your adversaries into the Kermit army," she beamed. "Well, I'm still working on that one, but I found something nearly as good," she opened the thick volume she'd been carrying under her arm. "Here they mention a curse, that… '_takes away enemies' courage and blurs their thoughts'_… Sounds good to me. Y-you know," she added shyly, aware that her discovery didn't solve any of their problems, "for starters."

For starters? Good God, it was absolutely horrifying how lame it was from the same beginning. Right, that was off topic. Wesley returned his attention to the scrolls.

"The thing is," Willow continued, "that in the book I've showed you there's only a reference to that spell. Ingredients and more importantly incantations are not translated in any known literature. It was pretty hard but I got the originals." Wesley raised his sight from the text, looking at the witch incredulously.

"Those are _originals_?" he asked, amazed.

"Well, yeah," Willow tried to act with modesty, like getting authentic, ancient scrolls was bread and butter for her. "You see," she hurried with explanation, "our friend was this huge e-Bay fan, she even bought the Urn of Osiris on the Internet…"

"There's only one problem," Dawn chimed in, not wanting them to get sidetracked or forget about her presence, "we can't translate it."

Wesley was really getting the idea how difficult it had to be, if Giles had failed.

"I'm quite surprised at that. As far as I know, you've always managed to…"

"Why thank you Wesley, it was absolutely what we wanted to hear from you," Rupert snorted, obviously offended.

"Maybe it wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it certainly was what you should be told," the younger man responded instantly, determined not to let the Watcher be rude like that… For all they knew, they were standing in the hall of _his_ agency. Figuratively speaking of course.

"What does that mean?" Giles said quietly through gritted teeth.

Wesley closed his eyes, knowing, that he couldn't get throwed off balance. They were facing the apocalypse, did they have time for quarrelling like five-year-olds?

"Tweed guys are _so_ asked not to toss heavy, however valuable, books at each other," Dawn made a weak attempt to joke, trying to calm their fight.

No, there was no time for this.

"I – I'm sorry," the words apparently didn't want to leave his throat. "I must have been misunderstood. Today I threw myself over too many books, I'm just exhausted," he mumbled.

Giles didn't answer. Behind his back, Dawn made a face to Willow and rolled her eyes. The redhead witch silently ordered her to stay quiet.

"Well, I see what the problem is," Wesley spoke after a moment. "Although I am quite sure I have encountered that kind of language, I can't remember, where or when…"

"How hard to believe," Rupert muttered sarcastically under his breath.

"I can recognize Hebrew, Latin and even Sumerian words however - "

"See? I told you, it's Sumerian!" Dawn prodded.

"It certainly isn't," Giles put the girl out, taking his glasses off his nose and starting to polish them. "Wesley recognized only characteristically - "

"_What_ever," the younger Summers rolled her for the second time in two minutes.

"This is exactly the attitude that won't get us anywhere…"

"Um, guys? The referee is imposing a _break_," Willow cut in, ending the pointless argument. For a while, at least.

" - however I presume that the majority of the incantation is written in Aramaic."

"Aramaic? W-well, it's surely an interesting concept," Giles's glasses went back onto his nose. "But in my opinion it's not based on any human language. I do agree that there are many words derived from other dialects but…"

"Of course it is Aramaic," Wesley said, his voice firm and cold. "Rupert, I do understand your doubts, but I spent my whole youth in libraries, studying _exactly_ that kind of ancient texts."

"Oh, there's nothing to be proud of about _that_," Dawn murmured, but stayed out of the watchers way, sensing the danger.

"Are you implying that by being a field watcher, not some kind a scholar boy like those who stayed at London I have less knowledge?"

"It's not what I was saying! Are you doing it on purpose? Misreading every single word I say?"

"It's not my fault you're not clear enough."

"Well it's not my fault you're not willing to cooperate."

"Hi, what's up?" Buffy appeared from nowhere, looking curiously at the two fuming Englishmen.

"Oil fight," her sister explained obligingly.

"Oh, does it involve Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt?"

"No, just Giles and Wesley," Willow shook her head, obviously let down.

"Gross!" Buffy seemed truly horrified by the thought. "Don't you ever say things like that in my presence again! I could get images or… Oh no, it's too late!"

In the background Giles and Wesley were still fighting over the translation. Wesley already started to regret that anyone asked for his opinion… Well, what the bloody hell they were asking for, if they didn't want to hear his judgment? It didn't make any sense but Rupert was as stubborn as ever, despite the fact he had to know that Wesley was the more qualified party for that task… And instead of calming down and searching for the solution he just kept coming for more.

Wesley was so absorbed in yelling at him, that he didn't notice that they were drawing attention. After a few minutes Angel intruded, trying to break them up, but without success.

The former watcher thought that this was it. There, at this very point – _early_ point, might he add – their liaison was going to end. The bomb was ticking and it sure as hell was going to explode.

The funny part was, it actually didn't. Because in less than a minute they froze – shocked, confused, unable to move.

"Spike?" Dawn's screechy voice, all the shouting faltered and stoped. All heads turned to the direction of the newcomer.

And there he was, standing in Hyperion's doorway, a suitcase in his left hand and a long object wrapped in grey packaging paper, and knowing him it was a shotgun, in his right. He was smirking, highly amused by the scene he'd just witnessed.

"Glad to see nothing's changed," he chuckled lightly, clearly delighted with their astonished expressions.

"Well, it _definitely_ should have," from behind Spike's back popped in a girlish pink head. "Don't wanna be rude but, jeez, I thought _we_ lived in a hell hole…"

"Oh, yeah, fine, you two can stand there and talk a little more," to everyone's surprise another girl came in. "I just _love_ to be the one who carries all the heavy stuff… Like some errandboy, but less with the _boy_ part and more… What's wrong with them?" she asked, looking incredulously at the people gathered in the lobby. "Why aren't they moving? Is that some sort of a spell, 'cos God help me, I object to work before showering…"

Confronted with no reaction and more shocked glares, Spike's smile broadened.

"Home sweet home."


	4. Meet the Girls

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N:** Great thanks to **Fetching Mad Scientist**, who took over beta'ing this story. I'm also really glad that you're liking 'Insight' so far. Your reviews make it worth writing.

Okay, now two things. You've probably noticed that I'm updating rather frequently. That's because up to Chapter 6 'Insight's ready to be published - that means checked by my beta reader. So don't be surprised, when those updates get more rare. However, I can promise that the story will continue. Scout's honour.

I'm also terribly sorry about those little mistakes I've ommited. It's all dandy now.

* * *

_Highway__, 2004_

They were driving for more than five hours already and Carrie felt numb. She wished they hadstopped for a while, at a gas station, or maybe a motel but she knew it wouldonly annoy the vampire behind the steering wheel. And it was definitely the least thing she needed now.

She was doing her best to play nice, yet it was more than hard. The car was filthy, the seats sticky and thewindscreens covered in black paint. Spike wasn't feeling like sharing the reasons, but she was Carrie and she _knew_. It efficiently prevented her from looking out of the windows and as a result she was _bored_.

They left New York many miles behind and now they were moving inland. Spike told her that they were heading to Denver. Well, she didn't mind, she'd never been in Denver before, so it was fine by her. She had to flee from the town, however she hadn't told him the reason He agreed to take her for a ride but he was going to leave her in some shelterthere. As if.

Oh, of course he had to leave her he was _dangerous_ and vampire-y and such. Naturally, he hadn't told her about his _undead_ state of existence. She just _knew_.

So it was fine. The direction was fine and she could really get used to the dim inside of the old Desoto, but the uncomfortable silence was definitely not wanted. Carrie knew Spike was all tense and nervous, not used to the responsibility for somebody beside himself. Truth be told, his dark mood had an equal effect on her and she was sick of feeling miserable.

And that was all he felt – misery. Loneliness. There wasn't a moment he wouldn't be worried about something. Since he took her to his apartment,a dirty little motel room he was renting, the amount of his concern was just growing bigger and bigger. It was horrifying how Carrie felt absolutely responsible for vampire's state of mind. He had to go to the grocery storefor something to eat for her and didn't have enough money to buy cigarettes, too. He let her sleep on the cot and was all sore after spending the night on the floor. She pointed out he'd been swearing far too much and he darkened, as if she had taken away from him his only pleasure. Asked about her family she had to tell him she had no one left, which made him only more concerned. And the look on his face when he was telling her he would have to drop her in some shelter? Heartbreaking… It's not that he was reproaching or anything. Carrie just _knew_, like she always had.

Ugh, lack of talk was bringing to mind wrong thoughts. Silence equaled bad. Right-o.

"Can I turn the radio on?" she asked.

Spike gave her a quick, insecure glance.

"What? Oh, uh, yeah, sure, if it's workin', " he responded but before he finished she had been already fiddling with the tuning knob. He looked a little frightened by her resoluteness.

Jeez, freaking out, much? Carrie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and focused on making the radio cooperate. After a few minutes, she managed to fix her favourite station and Enrique Iglesias's voice finally broke the quiet.

Spike grimaced.

"We're going to drive for the next five hours… Do I really have to listen to some nancy boy's bloody screeching?" he asked with disgust.

"Enrique is _so_ not screeching," Carrie felt offended. "His voice is nice and his songs are - "

"Nice?" his eyes left the road for a second and the girl saw they were lighting up. She smiled a little in response. She started to like him like that – all relaxed, his thoughts finally clear… Like when he was fighting. Carrie was reminded of that night they met. In that alley she nearly went insane, not able to cope with her… _gift_. Her _talent_. That's how her parents were calling this freaking curse, this unfair punishment for sins she hadn't committed.

Mom and Dad… Thinking about them still hurt. Would it ever stop?

"What's wrong, love?" Spike asked, obviously worried by her sudden muteness. "Is it soddin' Iglesias? If so, I'm gonna personally kick his bloody arse."

She couldn't help it and let outa small chuckle.

"No, it's just – " she struggled with herself for a while. On the one hand, it was – okay, what's the right word? – completely daft, _she_ was completely daft to stay in the same car with one of the most vicious vampires in the history. He was notorious William the Bloody – not that he told her she just _knew_ – and she was helpless twelve years old girl, his potential snack. On the other… Crap, stop it, there was _no_ one and _no_ other hand, 'cos she had already made her mind, hadn't she? This guy… This undead guy was what – or rather _who_ – she just needed the most.

"I thought about my parents," she started quietly. "The song and… My Dad was always like that. I mean, he _hated_ Iglesias – " her voice was now barely audible.

"Oh," the vampire became awkward, he didn't look at her this time. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Carrie felt the sting of tears. Damn it, she swore she woudn't cry ever again**(-)** and yet – "You know what pisses me off the most?" she couldn't fight it anymore, her cheeks were already wet. "That they could survive," her voice was trembling. "T-they could run away and save themselves and instead of getting the hell out of the town they just – "

Spike didn't say a word. It didn't matter, because she _knew_.

"It's all my fault," she whimpered. "If it wasn't for me they would still be alive. If I weren't what I am, those demons would never – "

"Carrie – " the vampire tried to say something to make her feel a little better and she really did, because his voice was soft and consoling and when his eyes left the road there was no judgment in them. "When something like that happens to any of us it's natural we start to blame ourselves. Believe me I've – " he hesitated but carried on after a while. "I've ruined many families – it's not that I'm going to hurt you or any thing – but what I want to say is that it wasn't their relatives' fault that I – "

She laughed. It wasn't a good laugh.It was hysterical, mad and scary. He thought she lost her mind. She didn't care. She just had to –

"You don't understand," she stuttered out, trying to calm down."You don't _know_ – "

"Bugger, I know enough," Spike interrupted her, obviously loosing his temper. "Now pay bloody attention, 'cos I won't repeat" he threatened her and ordered to stay quiet. "It _wasn't _your fault. You had nothin' to do with this, trust, those soddin' demons could attack any other people – "

"They were mercenaries."

Spike shut up in a second.

"They weren't some random demons and we weren't some random family who just happened to be in the wrong place in the wrong time. They were sent to kill us," the way she said that – cold, calm and matter-of-factly – surprised even her.

"How do you know?" the vampire asked, still not convinced.

"It wasn't the first time," she answered simply.

They were driving in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm a telepath."

The look of complete and utter astonishment on Spike's face was priceless but instead of marveling at this sight Carrie stared blankly at her hands, afraid to look up at him.

"You… You're what?" he spat out, trying to hold the steering wheel steadily and watch where he's driving.

"A telepath," the girl mumbled in response, still avoiding his unbelieving glances.

"Uh… Like the mind readin' kind?"

"No, like the dancing the Macarena kind," Carrie snorted, impatient by his obvious resistance to accept some hard facts. "What do you think?"

He scowled, not liking the way she treated him, the way that lacked basic respect.

"I don't think – I ask," the vampire snarled and she stayed quiet, for the first time scared of him. "Well?" he could hardly wait to hear her respond.

"Yes," Carrie squeezed herself deeper in the seat.

"Was it the reason why the demons were searching for you?"

"Yes."

Silence.

And than it hit her with the force of an atom bomb.

"You don't believe me," it wasn't a question – it was a statement. Carrie felt frightened, than betrayed and in the end – simply angry. He wasn't supposed to doubt her words.

"Pet, it's not about believing or not – "

"It fucking sure is!" she shouted at Spike, her eyes glazed again.

"Watch your language, young lady!" the vampire scolded her and his accent changed slightly. If Carrie didn't _know_, she would wonder why. Well, but she _knew_.

"I'm not lying," Carrie tried again to convince him, she _had_ to, it was the most important thing in the world at the moment. "It's all I am – _them_, those other people… Their thoughts, their desires, fears, obsessions, memories… I can't help it," her voice was trembling and she had problems with forming a coherent sentence. Carrie was never speaking about that, never _ever_. How was she going to explain it to him? "They… they keep coming and they're not mine… Sometimes I fear, that one day I'll wake up as somebody else. I don't even know what's still me and what's already them… They never shut up! – " she whimpered, reflexively covering her ears with her hands, as if it was going to work. Spike remained quiet. "You know what's the worst thing? That it's _never_ silent where I am. It's all whispers and murmurs and – " and she was crying, sobbing like a baby. She was ashamed of her own weakness. It wasn't what her parents wanted her to be.

And then she felt cool hand touching lightly her own. Carrie looked up at Spike and saw a reassuring smile on his face.

"I know what you're talking about," he told her after a while. He was obviously going to explain what he meant but her eyes already widened with comprehension.

"A few years ago I did… something and it didn't ended well. It actually ended with me as a bloody loony. I was talking to some… ghots of soddin' Christmas past and all that rot. I got better," he ensured her. "Later."

"So, yeah, I guess it's not all puppies and candies as those poor gits from bleedin' Hollywood think," Spike finished in a lighter tone.

Carrie wiped her face with a sleeve and smiled through tears. The vampire casted a quick glance at her and winked.

"Yeah, it's not," she agreed generously. "And it's hard to actually like anybody, with this whole I-know-your-deepest-secrets routine. You know, after a while I stopped liking people at _all_," she confessed, relaxing slowly. "They're… disgusting. Mean and nasty. And they're always wishing you the worst. I never actually told anybody about… You know," Carrie still didn't want to name _it_. "If somebody knew, he would hate me from the beginning."

"Why's that, pet? There are worse things in this soddin' world than your little… _nosiness_," he smirked.

"I am _not_ nosy!" Carrie felt offended but only for a brief second. She started to understand this undead guy and his strange, English sense of humor. "I'm not doing it on purpose. And it's not only about that, it's about me being different. A freak. A _mutant_," those last words were spoken with disgust.

"Believe me, love, I've been called many things in my _life_. And I learnt this," Spike looked at her seriously. "Bugger. Them. All."

The girl chuckled.

"Yeah, I'd like to but it's hard. It leaves you all… lonely. Okay, and truth be told I do understand why they're all uncomfortable in the same room with me. I'm happy you're not," she rewarded him with a smile, that lightened up the dim inside of the car.

"Why should I?" the vampire asked startled. "I'm… uh – "

"What? Undead?" Carrie smiled a little and rolled her eyes.

Spike was completely taken aback by that.

"How did you – " he managed to stutter in response.

"Oh, _please_, I knew from the beginning. There's really not much left I don't know about you after spending with you three days… I am what I am," she finished simply. "And above all, you _really_ have no reflection, and it's not that common."

"Sod this," Spike seemed not plainly angry, he was _outraged_. "You _knew_ I am a vampire and in spite of that you agreed to come to my apartment?!"

"Like you were going to hurt me anyway," she snorted. A big mistake.

"I bloody well could! It could all be an act, I could be luring you into the nest, you could end up dead!" he yelled at her.

"But I didn't," she cut him short. "Oh, come _on_, I told you what I am doing, I wouldn't go with someone who was going to hurt me."

"And how is that?"

"Do I have to spell it to you? A _telepath_ here, _hello_. Mind reading – it's what I do!"

Spike looked at her reproachful.

"And the Oscar goes to - " he said sarcastically.

"What does that mean?" Carrie was totally thrown of balance.

"That I really believed you. Congratulations on that one, pet," he didn't drop the ironical tone.

"What are you - "

"It's true, I'm a vampire. Walking corpse, deader than dead and all that rot. If you had any soddin' idea about mind reading, you'd know one of the cardinal rules here, love," Spike refused to look at her, angry, that she had lied to him.

"Enlighten me," the girl snarled, equally resentful.

"You can't read a vampire's thoughts, pet," he said with vicious satisfaction. "Like you can't see my reflection in the soddin' mirrors. 'cos _I_ do not reflect and neither do my _thoughts_. Believe me, the ponce of my grandsire had a little encounter with somebody infected by a bloody telepath demon – the girl could hear everyone _but_ him."

No, Carrie _couldn't_ believe it. He was comparing _her_ – a gifted, young mind reader – with somebody infected by demon _goo_? For crying out loud -

"That doesn't say anything," she told Spike, folding her arms.

"Yeah? And how do you want to prove you're telling the truth? Do I have to think about a bleedin' number from 1 to 10?" he snorted.

"_Please_, we're not in a circus and I'm not a _clown_," Carrie scowled at him.

"So? How are you going to convince me?" he curled his lips in a mocking grimace.

Carrie smiled casually.

"And how are you going to explain the fact we've been talking without using our vocal cords since we got into the car?"

Again, Spike shut up.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

Buffy was startled. There he was, standing casually and carrying his luggage with two strange teenagers by his both sides. Was she Hitler in her previous life, to be punished like that? There was no universe in which that kind of humiliationwould be justified. No way.

Was it really Spike? First, she thought it was definitely him, but the longer she was watching this guy the more positive she was that it couldn't have been the vampire she had known. The details were giving it out. There was no long, black leather coat, swirling characteristically around his ankles – instead he was wearing short, brown jacket and under it nice gray shirt and t-shirt a few tones darker. His pants weren't black and tight but looser and faded blue. No more military, heavy boots, that could be used as a deathly weapon, no black nail polish. Nope, none of that. There was only one thing left from his famous punk image – he was still bleaching his hair. If not for that, it would have taken her a while to recognize him.

"Spike," Angel hissed, immediately annoyed by the same sight of his grandchild.

"Hello, Poofter," the younger vampire smirked and came in. "Missed me?"

"As much as you can miss syphilis," Angel replied sarcastically. "What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Spike smacked at that.

"Is this a proper way to greet ol' friends?"

"Spike!" Fred, who just had entered the hall, dropped a book she had been holding and with another squeak fell upon him. "You did it! Oh, I did what you told me to, I called this friend of yours and he was really nice – wasn't he a demon of sorts? he said something about eating kittens and that's just awful, isn't it? – but he said he can't give me your address or anything because he promised not to and he was going to call you but he didn't call me back to tell me if he did call you and if you were going to come – "

This little woman was absolutely unbelievable – she was certainly the long run kind. She kept on babbling, no matter no one understood her.

"…and I was worried that you wouldn't come but you did!" she gave him a huge, bright smile.

"Fred, _you_ asked him to come?" Angel asked incredulously, staring at her with amazement and maybe a little bit of betrayal.

"Well, _yeah_," Fred tried look innocent. "We need all help we can get, don't we?"

Help. He was here to help. Buffy felt her heart sank. _Of_ _course_ he was here to help, what other reason could he have?

From the corner of her eye, she glanced at her friends. The expression on Giles's and Xander's face was telling how _not_ delighted by Spike's presence they were. Willow looked curious, probably thinking about the matter from the professional point of view – he _had_ come back from the deader, hadn't he? Dawn was obviously conflicted, torn apart between the hatred she had promised him that last year in Sunnydale and the longing for their lost friendship.

What surprised Slayer the most, were the reactions of Angel's crew. Same vampire seemed to be still a little annoyed but also relieved – was he anxious about his child whereabouts? Gunn was the first one after Fred who friendly shook Spike's hand and after a moment he was followed by Wesley.

In what freaking bizzaro world, where Angel welcomed Spike's arrival, had Buffy woke up in this morning? In what strange universe Spike wasn't wearing black? And he was accompanied by -

"Hi, I'm Fred," the physicist turned to the girls, who stood a few steps behind Spike, not interrupting. "Why don't you come in? I bet you are tired after the journey."

It was hard not to notice the look the teenagers gave Spike, obviously waiting for his… permission? Buffy wasn't sure, how to name it, but the fact was it was _after_ the slight nod of his head they approached.

They were a strange couple, being their perfect contraries. One of them, as Buffy noticed earlier, had her hair dyed an aggressive, raspberry pink. Her face was fine with dark, big and innocent eyes – it reminded the Slayer of a porcelain doll. But here the similarities ended, because however the girl was all tiny – short and petite – she didn't seem fragile. She was wearing colourful, bright clothes, looking a bit like a flower person and a rebel at once. She was scanning the lobby quickly, like she was trying to learn everything about her surroundings and those strange people in a split second.

The other one was taller and slimmer – and apparently stronger. Despite that, she was the calmer one, her moves weren't so nervous as her friend's. The look on her pretty freckled face was gentle, but there was also sparkling intelligence and decisiveness in her eyes. She was also dressed differently, classy, even posh, but comfortable at once.

It took only a second for Buffy to make those observations and she subconsciously was measuring them as potential opponents in the fight. She hated herself for thinking about two strange teens like that, but she was what she was. A slayer.

"There really isn't any way to get rid of him," Giles mumbled, dragging her out of thoughtfulness. Unfortunately, Spike's vampire hearing hadn't changed a bit.

"What can I say?" he told Giles lightly. "There is no apocalypse I woudn't live through."

"Like a cockroach," the watcher snapped back coldly. "Nothing to be proud of."

"So," Spike ignored the former librarian and turned his attention to Fred again. "Which one of the three possible events we talked about is on the soddin' agenda?" he glanced quickly at Angel. "Because it's clearly not the first option."

Fred giggled.

"I'm afraid it's the third one," she told him deadpan. "Not that anything else was going on _here_. Oh, where are my manners? Come on, I'll show you your rooms. It's a bit crowded, true, but I think I'll somehow manage to squeeze your three in."

"Wait a minute? Your _three_?" Giles growled and it was really strange and scary to see always perfectly calm Giles to do that sort of thing. "We are facing the Apocalypse and you appear just like that with two teenage girls? Are you _insane_?! It's not some bloody camp, it's a war! And who are they anyway?"

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"This is Carrie," Spike pointed the girl with pink hair, "and that's Jenna," the taller one smiled shyly.

"Oh, right, of course, that explains everything," the watcher snarled. "It really shows your – "

"Jenna's a slayer," the vampire interrupted him calmly, watching with satisfaction as Giles's eyes widened.

"And Carrie?" Wesley asked, but in the contrary to Giles politely.

Buffy had an impression, that for a shortest of seconds Spike's eyes were focused on her, but then he was looking at the girl in question.

"She's with me."

* * *

_Denver, 2004_

So, that was it. Their final destiny. Spike and Carrie stood in the front of gray, ugly building in the center of Denver. Children's shelter.

He looked at Carrie from the corner of his eye. She was trembling but he didn't knew if it was from fear or cold. She was avoiding his eyes, staring at her new home.

"Here we are," Spike said quietly, trying to control the over helming guilt. He had to be heartless to leave this girl in a place like that. She was so… sunny. So full of life. So young and innocent. The shelter, on the other hand, looked like a dungeon (only not underground). Spike started to wonder, what kind of people were living there, who was in charge. He felt an urge to talk to the director and ask him to take care of Carrie. And to ask about the drugs, are there any dealers in this centre because drugs could really destroy a person and it would be like all of the light was gone if something like that happened to this girl. Oh, and were they letting the kids _express_ _themselves_, 'cos Carrie told him she had been sad for so long that she'd love to change something about her appearance, maybe dye her hair a crazy, lively colour, to remind her that she's actually still alive.

Bloody hell, what was going on with him? The last time he felt like that – all responsible and paternal – was with Dawn… Well, before she had started to hate him because he had hurt her sister and ruined their friendship. There was no way he was going to start a relationship like that again – he was destined to screw it up completely and he didn't want Carrie or himself to suffer. He was too tired of pain and so was she.

So he was obviously doing the right thing.

"Will you come in with?" the girl asked him with a plea in her voice. She was holding back her tears, he could see it and it was like a stake to his dead heart.

"I don't know if it's a good idea," he replied, looking away. "Look, you're going to be bloody safe there, Sunbeam." It was getting really dangerous, if he already had a pet name for her. He had a habit of getting attached to things he had been naming and it always ended the same;with him all alone and heartbroken.

"I know, it's just – "

Spike didn't let her finish – he threwher to the ground. Above her head flew a knife.

"Run!" he told her as he jumped on his feet and pulled her up with him. Three demons were rushing in their direction, growling and holding their weapons, ready to charge.

Attackers had an indisputable advantage against them but it was their lucky day. Demons – however well equipped – were poor fighters and could stand no chance for somebody with Spike's experience. As the first mercenary lunged at him Spike ducked and threw it off balance. The vampire kicked his opponent a few times, then in one swift motion took its weapon and decapitated it. The others were chasing screaming Carrie but she was way faster than they were. In three leaps Spike reached one of them and before the demon could react he smashed its head. The last one fell with a thrown by Spike ax in its back.

It took a few minutes to calm Carrie down. She was breathing heavily and weeping hyisterically. Spike took the girl in his arms and stared to stroke her messy hair.

"Shh, it's all right, Sunbeam," he soothed her. "They didn't get you, those bloody wankers will never touch you again."

And then he knew he was not going to leave her because she needed someone to protect her and to guard her cursed gift. He slowly started to understand that all of them – the Poof, Buffy and Powers That Bloody Be – were wrong. Because they could save millions of nameless, strange people, they could be dying all over again but the evil would keep coming. And they couldn't save them all. They even couldn't save the majority of them. So maybe he could save just this one? Wouldn't it be something, to help at least one person from the whole soddin' world? Wasn't that a real heroism?

"Don't you worry, pet," he whispered, holding his salvation tightly. "Nothing's bad gonna get you."

He felt as she started to relax, already knowing that he's not leaving her. His shirt was wet with child's tears.

"You're with me."


	5. Secrets and Lies

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N:** As always, thanks to my beta, Fetching Mad Scientist and all of readers and reviewers.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

"That went well," Carrie snorted, jumping on the bed. She bounced a few times, checking its stability.

"No need of getting all sarcastic," Jenna replied calmly, going through the stuff from her suitcase, "There might have been some shock, a little bit of hostility from that old British guy. But, I wouldn't complain," she finally found what she was looking for – a bunch of stakes. "That Fred chick seemed very nice."

Carrie grimaced, "Oh, yeah, right – _some_ shock. A _little bit_ of hostility," she mimicked the young slayer. "And my head's about to explode because of all the _positive vibes_ those people were radiating."

Jenna gave her a concerned glance, "Do you need anything? A painkiller or…"

"I'm fine," the telepath sighed, "If I want a painkiller, I'll take a painkiller. Why do you and Spike treat me like a baby?" she pouted.

"Take a look in the mirror sometime."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Apart from _that_," she said, sarcastically stretching vowels.

Jenna didn't answer, occupied with arranging her slayer tools on the cupboard. Her friend wasn't the one to argue. Instead she just lay on the bed, silent for a moment.

"And you?" Carrie finally asked, rising a bit from her position and giving the slayer a piercing glare.

"What about me?" Jenna asked, her back still turned to her.

"How are you feeling about all of this?"

"It's not like you need me to spell it for you," the slayer mumbled.

"_Jenna_. I feel," Carrie sing-songed, "too many bottled up emotions…"

"Get off me, you freak!" Jenna couldn't suppress the urge to giggle. "Back off, or I'm using my superpowers on you!"

"You do and I'm telling!" Carrie warned.

"Who? That dead guy of yours?" Jenna mocked, finally managing to throw the mind reader off her back. "_So_ not scary if you have seen him watching, 'Passions'."

"The bloody preferred term is _undead_, you silly bint," Carrie mimicked Spike's British accent. "And don't you dare make fun of 'Passions'! It's the most soddin' valuable show on the telly… besides 'Dawson's bleedin' Creek'…"

Jenna was rolling over the floor, laughing hysterically. Carrie couldn't hold the serious face any longer, and burst into giggles.

Completely lost in the perfectly girlish moment, they forgot about their teenage dignity and started to wrestle like five-year-olds. When Jenna accidentally kicked the blue vase, that was standing on the table, to the floor, they stopped. They looked at the smashed china, then at each other and laughed hysterically.

When she was finally able to speak coherently, Carrie repeated her question, and Jenna's smile vanished.

"It's just…" she didn't know how to explain her feelings, but with Carrie it didn't matter.

At first, it really freaked the slayer out – the thought of somebody else knowing everything about her. Now, she found it comforting. There was only one rule she had to follow. Honesty. Even if the young telepath could read all her thoughts, and recognize all her moods, she still wanted to talk about her feelings. Talking was important.

So she talked.

"I felt so weak," she finally confessed. "A-and ordinary. All those people in the lobby, all those _girls_… You know, I could feel their power. It was totally overwhelming, I didn't know how to react. For the first time since I've had the power, I actually felt _powerless_."

Carrie touched her friend's arm lightly, reassuringly.

"It's not that I haven't known about the other slayers and about the rebuilt Council," Jenna carried on, "But still… With you and Spike it was different. I was _chosen_. Who am I without that?"

"You're Jenna," Carrie replied, smiling fondly, "Who else would you be, Sis"

"Catherine Zeta – Jones?" the slayer responded with a spark in her eyes.

They sat in a perfect silence for a while.

"I'd really like to know what's going on down there," Jenna said out of the blue.

Carrie closed her eyes, "It's hard to tell, Sis. I'm getting very mixed signals… and I feel another headache coming. It's just hard to tell."

* * *

They were gathered in the study, where all the important meetings were conducted, and the decisions made. The study was Wesley's kingdom – not that Buffy was surprised. 'Oh, look at all those pretty, pretty books, neatly arranged on the shelves. And in the cupboards. And on the desk.'

Between those towers of paper knowledge sat Wesley, looking a bit small compared to the volumes, but apparently happy and secure.

Buffy snorted mentally, '_Watchers'_.

She wondered if Wes would ever forgive Giles for refusing to help somebody he cared about. Buffy had no idea who it was. She knew little about the whole case, since her current slayer duties were strictly removed from the rest of the Council's business. She recalled the earlier fight about that stupid translation. Could Wes's anger at Giles have been more obvious?

Wesley sat behind the desk. Both Angel and Connor stood on either side, looking like twin statues, arms folded – all tall, dark, and handsome… and brooding. The whole room seemed to be divided in two parts. In the left corner – defending champions of LA – the rest of the AI Team: Fred, Gunn and Lorne. In the right corner – pretenders to the honourable title of Los Angeles's Heroes – the Scooby Gang: Dawn, Xander, Willow, Giles, Andrew, Faith and Wood; and, of course, her. Although the Scoobies outnumbered their opponents, Angel and his co-workers had the indisputable advantage of familiarity with recent events -

The recent event was leaning casually against the door frame with his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, a smirk on his lips, and one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Let me get this straight," Xander offered, breaking the heavy silence that fell after Spike's words. "Two years ago, you were playing Phileas Fogg around the States, accompanied by The Pink. A year ago you decided to become a man about town, and terrorize Greenville, California, also known as, ' Sunnydale Redux'…?"

"_Straight_? For who?" Wesley mumbled, "So many years have passed and I'm still having problems understanding his strange manner of speaking."

Angel's improved hearing caught the sarcastic remark.

"You think there's a dictionary?" he gave Wes a knowing glance.

"… Where you just _happened_ to meet a minor version of Buffy. And, Buffy Junior just _happened_ to have _no_ ties to the Council… not only did she beg you _not_ to do this…not to bring her to the Council… she went totally psycho and asked _you_ to train her?"

Spike's smile broadened, his amusement reaching its height, "No," he replied happily.

Xander glared at him, "Since when are you all monosyllabic?" he asked suspiciously. "It's unlike you… You could be the First!" he accused the vampire triumphantly. "You burnt to ashes in Sunnydale and now you appear all 'New and Improved'…? Anyone touched him since he's been here?" he turned to people gathered in the room.

Fred, who looked a bit frightened and taken aback by Xander's hostile behaviour, raised a trembling hand, "A-actually I did," she said hesitantly. "I – I kinda hugged him… If t-that counts, of course – "

"Thank you Fred. It does," Angel cut in wearily, getting more and more annoyed by Xander's puerility. "Okay, I am aware of the fact that Spike's not dusty. Even if I knew about it earlier than you did…Get over it, already! We have more important things to talk about! "

"I also would like to return to the case of this girl, Jenna…" Giles didn't even bother to let Angel finish.

'Points for team Sunnydale', Buffy thought sarcastically.

"…Especially the bit where you meet her, realize she's one of the slayers and that she's _not_ under the Council's tutelage," the Watcher's glasses immediately went off his nose to be polished, very faithfully, "and you forget to contact us."

"Bet you planned all of that. Stalked her to death and all," Xander mumbled, unfortunately too loudly, "Undead liar guy."

"Yo, Mr Paranoia, you can shut up _now_," Gunn couldn't hold back any longer, "Damn racists."

"Racist? I'm a _racist_ now?" the one-eyed man shouted disbelievingly. "You know who a racist _is_? Somebody that is intolerant towards people who are different. Pause, rewind, volume up – _people –_"

"Xander, please, this isn't the right time…" Willow pleaded.

"So you're suggesting there actually _is_ a right time for that kind of shit?"

"Hey, watch it," Faith raised her voice, ready for action, "you're talking to Willow here. A li'l bit of respect would be nice, Shaft."

"Taking _their_ side now?" Connor looked at the dark slayer incredulously. "Aren't they the ones who kicked you out of their precious little circle?"

"You're talking about things you've got no fucking idea about, kid – "

"And here I thought you were actually _cool_ – "

"If you have anything against Faith," Wood chimed in, taking a few steps in Connor's direction, "you're going to discuss it with me."

"Would hate to break it to you, fogey," Angel's son gave him a scorning glance, "but I don't get the impression she's a damsel in distress. Well, she may be in distress, but sure as hell not a _damsel_…" he snorted insolently.

Faith grabbed Wood's arm and stopped him from lunging at the boy, who was now making witty remarks about slayer's strength and the leash she was keeping Robin on. Xander was calling Connor a _hell spawn_. Wes tried to calm them down, but when Giles insulted him for working for vampires and defending their _unnatural brood_, he stood up and snapped back that Giles was nothing more than ignorant. That provoked Dawn's reaction, which got Lorne's attention, and brought Andrew into the fight –

Ever heard of the domino effect? When one domino topples, it knocks over the next piece and that piece the next until it brings down the whole neatly arranged construction in no time?

Buffy looked at the adults yelling at each other.

Yep, that was it.

It was strange how indifferent to all this shouting she stayed. She should have joined them, she should have taken someone's side. She should have quipped once or twice -

- Been the old Buffy.

She couldn't. She wasn't one of the domino pieces anymore. When had this happened?

Oh, yeah, right. The big fight. Losing her friends and slayers. Girls. So many of them… And now, there could be nothing more important than them, than keeping them alive. Though she hated to admit it, all of this had broken something inside her. But wasn't it essential for her becoming _the mother slayer_, as the girls liked to call her? When they weren't referring to her as _ma'am_, that is. And _ma'am_ wasn't taking any sides. _Ma'am_ wasn't getting into this. _Ma'am_ was an example to all of them. A symbol of… of all the important, do-gooding stuff.

Have you ever seen arguing symbols?

Nope.

But they… They could quarrel. They could argue. And they were. And it was getting on her nerves. Calling names wasn't what they were supposed to do now. They should have been asking very important questions about Spike's whereabouts and his connection to these girls; and the answers should have _so_ taken Buffy's mind off the word _jail-bait_, because it was absolutely inappropriate, and irrational and… God he looked good in brown and…

"_Shut up_!" Angel shouted, "God, don't you have any _shame_? How are you going to avert the Apocalypse if you've got problems _talking_ to each other?"

"Listen, Dead Boy…" Xander wasn't going to be shut up by someone who did _not_ have a heartbeat.

"One more word, Xander, and I swear to God I'll kick you out _personally_," Angel growled. Xander stayed quiet, but the look on his chubby face showed just how much he hated obeying the vampire.

"Oh, come _on_, Peaches," a mocking British voice broke the silence. "You ruined my fun."

"Everybody you know at each other's throats?" Angel paused, "Oh, wait. Sorry, stupid question – it's _exactly_ your kind of fun."

"Yeah, well," Spike sighed, "can't blame a bloke for wantin' the gits he hates bloody well dead. Let them kill each other. What do I care?" he shrugged casually and than turned to Connor. "Was voting for you, Forehead Junior."

"Okay, _before_ you piss off my son," his grandsire said wearily, "answer the question."

"And why would I do _that_, Peaches?" the younger vampire made a hurt face. "Here I am, leavin' everythin' behind, hurrin' through the whole bleedin' state, 'cause Fred says y'all are in trouble and what do I get?" he shook his head with disappointment. "A bloody interrogation, that's what. Expectin' the Nazis to burst in any minute now."

"Spike, you _were_ a Nazi," Angel pointed out matter-of-factly.

"I wasn't! They got me with this whole 'free virgin blood party' gig. And the uniform was bloody fantastic."

"_Beside_ the point… And don't change the subject," Angel was getting really tired of the constant banter, "How did you meet this slayer?"

"See, gramps, that's what I was tryin' to say, but who would listen?" the offended tone was back.

"_Spike_ – "

"I'm not the first one who met her. It was Carrie."

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

"Class, this is Carine Johnson," Mrs. Roberts introduced in a cheery voice the petite girl. Jenna stared for a few seconds at her shiny, pink hair. 'Wow,' she thought with a bit of respect. 'She's got the nerve to dye herself like _that.'_ She had the nerve and parents who were either very tolerant or simply blind.

Personally, Jenna was voting for the second option.

"Carine, dear, tell us something about yourself," Mrs. Roberts smiled sweetly; but Jenna knew she already hated the newbie. Yep, in this school you could get away with pretty much everything. Alcohol, drugs, cheating, stealing and bulling weren't a problem - _unless_ you were colouring your hair pink, of course. The principal was calling it _caring for the students_. Jenna was calling it _hypocrisy_.

"Hi," the girl started, in a voice that trembled a bit, "As you have heard, my name's Carine… But _Carine_'s kinda stupid, so it's okay to call me just Carrie, like the one from Stephen King's novel. But no worries, I'm not planning on ruining a prom any time soon," she smiled shyly, hoping they would get the joke.

'Extreme optimist', Jenna snorted mentally, 'since people actually don't read, anymore.'

Poor chick. They're going to eat her alive.

Yep, but it was hers, not Jenna's problem. Jenna could sympathize. And, she was going to, but she _so_ wasn't a school charity case. She had more important things to do than enlightening the new ones that, _here_ it was against every natural law to be yourself. Okay, _very_ dark scenario, but Jenna knew what she was talking about. She had experience, thank you very much.

She turned her attention to her notebook, listening with only one ear to what the girl had to say.

"… And I moved here a week ago with my… older cousin, w-who's British and… yeah. A-and that's all, I think," she finished shyly.

"Thank you, Carine. Sit down, please."

'Oh, look, Mrs. Roberts absolutely disdained the girl's request to call her _Carrie_ instead of _Carine_ – surprise, surprise!'

"Silence, please! Open your books on the page – "

And so the torture that was Math began. The newbie – Carrie – took the table next to Jenna. Her reason was obvious – it was the farthest one from the teacher's desk that was still free. And who'd like to sit anywhere near that old witch? Apart from Amy Fisher who was a freaking toady?

"Um, excuse me?" Carrie leaned in Jenna's direction. "Could I – could I take look at you handbook?" she asked politely. "I don't have one yet – "

Jenna leaned over, sharing her book.

"Exercise 3, page 56," she murmured conspirationally. Knowing Roberts, she would make a scene because of Carrie's lack of preparation to her lesson.

"Thanks."

Somehow they managed to keep this whole sharing thing from Roberts's eyes 'til the bell rang.

"Thanks, again," the pink-haired girl smiled, when they were packing their things and leaving the classroom.

"No problem," Jenna beamed back, hoping the new would leave her alone and not –

"Do you, um, know where the next class is?"

'Shit', Jenna thought, and then felt a sting of shame when she saw the hurt on Carrie's face.

"Sorry, you're probably busy and I'm getting in your way," she apologized. "I'll ask somebody else – "

"What? No, no, it's fine!" Jenna said with an oh-so-very-false smile. "I'll show you, I don't have anything important to do."

'Yeah, besides checking my stake and holy water supplies', she thought nervously – the same memory of the tonight's patrol was making her all bad moody.

She turned around confused, when she noticed that Carrie wasn't following her. The girl was standing motionless in the centre of the corridor, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Carrie?" Jenna called her, feeling that she was starting to freak out. "Are you coming?"

Okay, she had seen many strange things in her short life but this chick was scaring the shit out of her and hey, she was the –

"Y-yeah," she replied, shaking her head and looking more lucid than a moment ago. "I was just… um… I felt a little bit nauseous, 's all."

– Slayer.

"Oh. You wanna go to see the nurse?"

"No, it's okay. I'm fine."

Wonderful. So, not only did Jenna have to mentally prepare herself for a very scary patrol she was going on, all alone, but she was also forced to deal with a complete nut? You know, being a slayer and a student in the same lifetime really sucked.

Yeah, right. '_Fine_ my ass.'

"Let's go."

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

"And y' know, how hard it is to hide bein' a slayer from people with whom you spend your time," Spike looked intently at the core Scoobies. "Once, Jenna dropped her bag, and all of her stuff landed on the floor. A stake, among other soddin' things," Spike finished, shrugging.

"That is how your… _protégée_ found out about Jenna's identity, am I right?" Giles inquired suspiciously, "She saw the stake – "

"And asked the bleedin' question. Yeah, somethin' like that," Spike chuckled lightly, not thrown off balance by watcher's obvious lack of conviction. "Come on, Rupes, don't look at at me as if I killed the cat. They were bloody thirteen. Believe me, not the best age ever."

"Well," the other Brit cleared his throat. "I am indeed quite surprised. I would never suspect that a slayer can act in such a careless way. Her duty requires – "

The vampire laughed.

"- _requires_ absolute devotion – "

"Please," Spike he cut in, rolling his eyes. "You're saying _that_ after nine bloody years of being _Buffy's_ Watcher?"

"Hey!" Buffy protested, not only to the unfair representation of her… _unusual_ behaviour, but to Spike's dismissal. It was the first time Spike actually mentioned her name, and he did it as if she wasn't even in the room.

She felt a slight sting of betrayal. But it was really slight. Like, in the slightest of the slightest. Barely noticeable. Probably wasn't even there. And even if, just for a short second, the shortest of -

"You better buzz off, Undead Junior," Xander took his friend's side.

"If I weren't bloody right, you wouldn't be sayin' that, "the vampire snorted, "'cause you wouldn't know her, if she had done what her soddin' _duty_ had required, you git."

Xander remained silent.

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, that me and Jenna, we met by accident," Spike said wearily. "And it was a bloody hard time for her, dealing with her newly found slayerness. She had no watcher, no friends… No one she could count on, and the weight of the whole soddin' world on her shoulders."

"B-but she wasn't alone," Willow said quietly, trying to sound absolutely non-judgmental. "The other slayers, they were somewhere out there, all along. Why didn't you - ?"

"Contacting the Council was out of question," the bleached vampire said bluntly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean what it actually means," Spike's irritation was growing, "Do I have to write it down for you? Jenna didn't want somebody to bloody _watch_ her." There was obvious hostility in the glare he gave Giles, "She wanted somebody to _help_ her."

"You dare to imply that we wouldn't…"

The Watcher's statement was suddenly interrupted by a loud pounding coming from the upstairs. Spike raised his eyes to the ceiling. _Three, two, one_ – he mouthed and to everybody else's surprise they heard a sound of smashed glass.

"They're dead," the vampire said dead panned and without any further explanation left the study.


	6. Trust Issues

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N: **Thanks to **Fetching Mad Scientist**, my wonderful beta reader.

Yesterday, I received a review in which I was told that my story followed canon less than I thought it did. The reviewer pointed out that I should warn all of you that 'Insight' does not follow BtVS season 8 comic books. It's true that Joss Whedon considers "The Long Way Home" an official continuation of his series. Since I haven't read it and I haven't met many fan fiction stories based on it I totally forgot about about the comic. I apologize to those of you who agree with Joss and think of "The Long Way Home" as canon. Just because I don't doesn't mean, I shouldn't make it clear for you.

**"Insight" is a post "Not Fade Away" story, that does not follow BtVS season 8 comic books. **You can say that it veers from canon from that point.

Thank you for you attention. Enjoy.

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

Carrie entered the silent house. She tossed the keys onto the small, round table standing next to the doors, shoved off her shoes and slid her feet into a pair of pink, fluffy slippers Spike had bought her in Chicago. She remembered his scenic disgust at the sight of these shoes. Despite the lack of his approval, she had purchased them. With Spike's money, 'kay, but nonetheless.

Speaking of him, Spike seemed to be still sleeping. When he hadn't got up with her in the morning – and he always had, even if only to say a proper 'goodbye' before her leaving – she had assumed he had had a rough night at work. Since they moved to this God forsaken town he had been working at the local club as a bartender. You know, blessings of the night shift and all. But it wasn't doing him any good, of that she was sure. He hated to work for somebody else – he was not used to having a _boss_. So not only from 10 pm to 2 am had Spike to deal with some fat asshole (not that she had ever used _that_ word in front of him) but afterwards he was also determined to patrol. And about that –

Okay, _before_ any further thinking Carrie had to reach her bed. She felt exhausted. Same being in the school – full of people full of thoughts and emotions – was enough to make her pass out if she didn't rest for awhile. She climbed upstairs, walked past the door of Spike's bedroom – perfectly silent, by the way, so he had to be still sleeping – and entered her own room. Unpacked boxes were covering the floor. Usually, Spike was very strict about keeping their places in a relative cleanliness – something you wouldn't expect from a guy who had lived in a crypt – but this time he understood Carrie's hesitance about settling in. She still couldn't believe that Greenville was their last stop, that their were not going to move any time soon. She still remembered her suspicious reaction to these news.

"_Here we are", Spike had said when they had shown in the town for the first time. He had stopped the DeSoto on a driveway to a small, but nice enough house._

"_You sure about that?" Carrie had asked him, frowning. She had been expecting another hotel, not… this. "Maybe we have the wrong address."_

_Spike had laughed sincerely in response. "No, the bloody address is right. Carrie, I bought this house."_

"_You bought a house? Where did you get the money? And are you nuts?! What are we going to do when they… when they will find – "_

"_They will not", he had snapped back angrily. "Look, Sunshine, this is not a regular house. And about the money… You remember Clem? My friend from Santa Monica?"_

"_Yeah", she had answered hesitantly, certainly memorizing the shaggy demon._

"_I told him that I've been lookin' for something safe. 'cause I'm bloody fed up with this soddin' roundabout. You know we can't do it forever."_

_Carrie had refused to look into his mind, afraid of what she could have found there: weariness and resignation from saving her._

"_So", Spike hadn't seemed to notice that her face had become unnaturally pale, "Clem told me that he knew this property agent, who dealt with any kinds of unusual orders. I asked Clem to get in touch with the guy, hopin' he'll find something for us. He did. And because of my very fortunate connections the owner agreed to be paid in bloody installments. So here we are", he had finished obviously content with himself._

_Carrie had raised her eyebrows.__ "I still don't see why you think it's going to be different this time", she had demanded, folding her arms._

"_There's a spell put on the house, Sunbeam", he had explained, rolling his eyes at her being clueless. It's bloody impossible to locate it or anyone, who leaves there. It's like it doesn't exist beyond this hell hole they call Greenville."_

_Carrie had looked at the said house incredulously, not believing neither his words, nor his thoughts._

"_Does it mean", she had audibly gulped, "does it mean that we can stay here?"_

_Spike had smiled tentatively. "Yeah, Sunbeam. It means we can stay here. Permanently. Of course", he had added jokingly, "if you don't mind this whole Girl Who Don't Exist routine."_

_Carrie had returned his smile.__ "Nah."_

But despite the fact that Spike was doing his best to convince her that they could stop running away from the unknown threat, she stayed more than wary and couldn't bring herself to unpack the boxes. Unpacking them was so… final. And she still had problems with accepting this new situation, too scared of the eventual disappointment.

Okay, bad, depressing thoughts. She had to clean her mind or she would go nuts. For a few minutes she just lay spread on her new bad, focused on not thinking at all. She could feel the headache coming but after spending her day among those very mentally unstable people they called _teenagers_ she should have expected this. Sometimes telepathy really _sucked_.

Well, when it wasn't useful, that is. Like today with that Jenna girl -

A slayer. God, it was just Carrie's luck to have classes with a _slayer_. Strangely, a slayer without a watcher. 'course, she knew everything about the recent changes in the slayers' line – _vide_ Spike's memories – but despite that or maybe because of that, Jenna's situation wasn't making any sense.

Oh, it wasn't that Carrie hadn't been trying to break into the other girl's brain. 'cause she had. But even Carrie couldn't reach the memories in question. Like they were totally repressed, locked away with this huge key and there was no way to reach them.

But those thoughts Carrie actually _had_ reached hadn't been nice, too. She closed her eyes and recalled the overwhelming feelings of loneliness, fear and… anger?

Carrie's head was now hurting badly. She knew she had to warn Spike about a slayer in town but that actually required getting up and waking him. And she was too tired for the first option and too merciful for the second one. They both needed some sleep. So Carrie was going to take a quick nap, brief enough to catch Spike before he had to go to work. She was sure that on his way back he was planning on patrolling and considering the fact that the slayer was going to do the same thing, the encounter was inevitable. It was up to Carrie to prepare Spike for the meeting –

She opened her eyes after five minutes or so. Really, there was no way she could have been sleeping longer. Carrie looked at the small clock, standing on her night table. And she froze. Shit, the damn thing had to be broken, 'cause it was impossible that –

She burst into Spike's bedroom but it was empty. 'He has to be downstairs, drinking his supper', she thought, trying not to panic. She ran to the kitchen but he wasn't there either. Instead, she found a small note pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Carrie recognized Spike's old fashioned handwriting.

_I was hoping that you'll be up to tell me about your first day in school but you__ were sleeping like a bloody dead and I don't mind hearing the story tomorrow. When you wake up order pizza or make yourself something to eat on your own. _

_See ya in the morning. _

_Spike._

Carrie dumbly mouthed the last words. In the morning. In the morning?! It would be too late in the damn morning! The vampire and the slayer were going to meet in the cemetery tonight and how bad could that end?! With Spike being dust or Jenna being hurt or both of them dead, apparently… And it was all Carrie's fault.

So the clock hadn't been broken. It was really 2 am.

Carrie overslept.

And now she had to make things right.

* * *

_Los Angeles 200__5_

He could hear them from the end of the corridor and it wasn't for his enchanted senses – they were just bloody loud. Although he really wanted to catch them as they were doing exactly what he had forbidden, he knew he could stand no chance against two teenage girls with superpowers. Before he reached their door, Carrie and Jenna became completely silent.

He knocked. "You decent?" he asked just in case.

"Come in," came the replay.

Spike opened the door and walked into the room. Carrie was lying on the bed with a book in her hand and Jenna was occupied with arranging her clothes in the wardrobe. They looked at him simultaneously, as if they were surprised to see him so fast. Their eyes were perfectly innocent. How could he even think about them tempering?

He could, 'cause he knew them. And they weren't bloody fooling him.

He stood motionlessly in the doorway, tapping his clad in a combat boot foot impatiently.

"Is something wrong?" Carrie put down the book and looked at him with those huge, doe eyes.

He was far too old for that gig. "There was only one soddin' thing," Spike started in a low voice that was vibrating with suppressed anger, "I asked you two. Do you remember what was that?"

More innocent looks and eyelash batting.

"I asked you to behave yourselves," the vampire finished after dramatical silence. "I asked you to be quiet. And not to break anythin'."

Jenna was a poor liar. As always, she was the one to give in. "We didn't break anything!" She answered immediately, obviously feeling guilty. From the corner of his eye Spike noticed as Carrie made a face, annoyed by her friend's naiveness. He stepped in and with one swift motion of his foot uncovered the brim of the carpet, revealing pieces of the shattered china. Girls looked at the pile of trash that once had been a blue vase, then at each other and finally they sank their heads.

"Well?" Spike inquired.

"We're sorry," Carrie forced out after a moment.

"We didn't mean to," Jenna added eagerly.

"We'll buy it back!"

"With my money?" Spike raised an eyebrow, not appeased.

"We…" Carrie started carefully, thinking about the best answer.

"… we'll give the money back…" the slayer carried out instead of her.

"… later."

" When we're older…"

"… and independent…"

"… and being paid…"

"… _well_ paid…"

Spike glared at them incredulously. "You two, you're my biggest failure," he stated, resigned.

"But a very cute one," Carrie beamed at him.

Spike sighed. He was doing a lot of that – sighing – lately. It was nothing like him, like his present self. Sighing was more a of thing William would do while facing a difficulty. Spike – the real, vampire Spike – wasn't the one to give up with a bloody _sigh_. He was supposed to bicker and sweare, and kick things, and than swear some more – but not _sigh_.

He sighed. Those girls were making him soft. William-like soft.

He sat on the bad. Immediately, Carrie hang upon him, her thin arms all around his neck. Jenna stopped making orders and took a place next to them. Girls looked at him expectantly.

"How did it go?" the slayer asked in a concerned voice.

Carrie's pink head rested on Spike's shoulder. She had already known, probably read it the moment he had come in but it didn't discouraged him.

"As expected," he shrugged. "They were asking too bleedin' questions."

"Did they – " Jenna started but Spike didn't let her finish.

"Fortunately, no," he cut in. "They were so bloody occupied with hatin' each other and yellin' at me for not tellin' them about another slayer that Sunbeam's presence stayed unnoticed."

"For now," Carrie said quietly. "But they're going to. You know, ask 'bout me."

"Well, they can ask 'til the Hell freezes over," Jenna snapped angrily. "I may be a slayer, a part of their stupid Council, but you are none of their business!"

"Language," Spike reprimanded her automatically. "You're right, Freckles, but the thing with these people is that they hardly realize some things are not their business. So don't even think 'bout answerin' them like _that_," he gave Jenna a meaningful glare," 'cause that straightly leads to arousin' their soddin' curiosity."

The slayer mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

"And," Spike carried out calmly, "it's important for _yourself_ to play nicely with them."

"Jenna doesn't like them," Carrie said dreamily, being a little unaware of her surroundings. Neither Spike, nor Jenna reacted – they were used to the her daydreaming. She had been usually doing that while reading many thoughts at once.

"I don't _need_ them," Jenna corrected. "I've got you. You've trained me better than any watcher ever would, you patrol with me, you help me with the research and…"

"Look, Freckles, I know it's hard to trust somebody once he had disappointed you," the vampire told her softly, "but you can't bloody isolate yourself… Especially, when there are so many other do-gooders around. We have to make sure that you won't stay all alone in case I go down… And you know I'm countin' on you to take care of that pink monkey," he smiled tenderly, while Carrie, who seemed to wake up from her weird trance, rolled her eyes and made a face again.

"So what now? We're supposed to stay quiet, say nothing at all? Nod and smile like some stupid school girls?" Jenna still wasn't convinced.

"If you please could do that – " A pillow hit his head but he ignored it. "Seriously, Freckles, it's for the soddin' best. Trust me."

Jenna looked at him and smiled. "I do."


	7. Night of the Living Dead

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. 

**A/N: **Thanks to Fetching Mad Scientist, who's doing a great job with beta'ing this story.

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

Jenna was walking through the cemetery alley with both hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket and one of them clenching a hidden stake. All alone, at night, playing a vampire bait – it was freaking scary. And she shouldn't have been scared, she shouldn't have been so damn close to panicking because she had the power, the strength and the speed, because she was –

Tinglies. Rustling leaves. Footsteps.

– A slayer.

She took a few breaths before turning around.

'Not freaking out, not freaking, not…' Okay, she was already freaking out.

She found herself face to face with not one, but three vampires.

One of them smiled broadly. "Hello, puppy."

The other two chuckled wickedly.

"And what is a cute little thing like you doing in such a dangerous place?" He inquired politely in a little odd and old fashioned manner of speaking. One of his companions licked his lips hungrily, which made her want to throw up.

"Maybe she's waiting for someone?" The third vamp asked no one in particular. "Maybe there are more of her wee little friends somewhere around here?"

"Do tell, puppy," the first one – probably a leader – encouraged her. "Are you all alone? Poor little lost lamb – "

"Maybe little, but neither a puppy, nor a lamb," Jenna said, greeting her teeth.

The vampires looked at each other and laughed sincerely.

"Aw, how sweet," the leader teased. "_Neither a puppy, nor a lamb_… So what? A kitten maybe?"

Jenna pulled out a stake in a silent response.

"The kitten shall you be." The vampires changed into their game faces. "Considering the fact you're showing claws – "

"Damn right I do," the girl cut in and attacked remembering, that attack was supposed to be the best defense. Well, whoever said that had been way bigger than Jenna. And in less trouble.

Jenna acted on impulse – it was all she could do these days. She might have lacked experience, skills and grace in fighting – instead of those she had power, basic knowledge and a great desire to live through the night. So she was kicking and punching with all her unnatural strength. That was what the instinct was telling her to do. And she trusted it because so far, Jenna's instinct had never failed her.

Somehow she managed to dust one of the minions. The other two froze in a sudden shock, the left fledgling obviously scared and looking expectantly at his master. To his and Jenna's surprise, the older vampire chuckled.

"Here, kitty kitty. "

The younger demon lunged forward. Jenna ducked, hoping he would loose his balance. And indeed, he stumbled clumsily. In a split second he was nothing more than a pile of dust. Holding firmly the stake, Jenna quickly turned around to face the leader.

Too slow.

The vampire was much faster. She didn't know how he did that but he attacked her from the behind, kicking her hard in the back. Jenna hit one of the tombstones, feeling a saering pain in her head. She tried to get up, she had to get up, she had to fight, she didn't want to end like this, all alone in the graveyard –

A pair of strong, cold hands surrounded her neck. She closed her eyes.

"Nothing better than a little kitten like snack before bedtime – "

"Your mum forgot to tell you it's bloody unhealthy to eat before sleep, mate?" Somebody spoke in a thick, British accent. Jenna's eyes slapped open only to see the vampire's teeth inches from her skin. Hearing the intruder's retort, the vampire froze, obviously annoyed that someone dared to interrupt his meal.

He growled, "And yours forgot to tell you it's rude to bother a person who's eating?"

"Aw, come on, mate," the guy mocked. "You not sharin'?"

"No," came the angry reply. The slayer felt the grip on her neck tightening dangerously. She couldn't decide what was worse – being drained or chocked to death.

"Too bad," the Brit smacked, disappointed. "Since you're not treatin', I gotta help myself without an invitation."

That was beyond the vampire's patience. Fuming, he let Jenna, who slid flatly to the ground and lunged at the stranger. However Jenna felt all dizzy and her sight was blurred, she couldn't keep herself from sighing in admiration.

The man, who – intentionally or not – had saved her from becoming a vampire's snack, was the best fighter she had ever seen. His moves were full of a cat like grace, fluent and precise. Clad in black, he was barely visible and only his strangely white head shone in the dark.

The vampire Jenna had considered a master stood no chance against this man, who dusted his opponent in no time.

Her savior approached. "You okay?" He asked and helped her stand up… Jenna's eyes grew in shock and fear.

His hands were cold. Dead cold. Comprehension slowly downed at her.

_You not sharin'? Since you're not treatin', I gotta help myself__…_

Another vampire. And this time, a _real_ master.

"What are you doin' here at night?" He frowned, looking at her intently.

"N-nothing," she replied in a voice that was shaking a little bit. While she started to move away from him, her hand slowly wandered to the back pocket of her jeans, where she had been always keeping a spare stake.

"Nothin'? You know how much this _nothin'_ could have cost you?" He looked at her angrily.

"I guess so – "

"No, you bloody well can't _guess_," he mocked her. "You know why? To little imagination, that's why – "

"Spike!"

The vampire turned to the direction, from which had come the voice. Jenna faced his back and it was an opportunity she couldn't miss. Using his distraction, she raised the stake, ready to plunge it home…

"Look out!" Somebody shouted.

Everything next had happened so quickly, that even moths later, better trained and more experienced, Jenna had problem with remembering, how she had found herself pinned to the ground, with her arms twisted on her back and sniffling the cemetery grass. A cold hand grabbed her wrist, forcing her to drop her weapon.

"You are… a tricky little bird – " She heard muttering above her.

Jenna struggled and tried to shout for help (as if anybody could have been in the graveyard at such a late hour), but her scream was muffled by the grass. So instead she tried kicking the vampire off her, but it was impossible to hit somebody who was sitting on your back.

" …and a strong one – " There was genuine surprise in the vampire's voice.

"Wow, and you're a bright one," said the third person, the one who had warned him earlier. Another vampire? Most likely.

"I would thank you," the Brit snarled, "if I weren't about to kill you. What the bloody hell are you doin' here?!"

"Ah, beside saving your skinny, vampire ass?"

A _vampiress_, to be specific. A young one. Or maybe just somebody turned young, the slayer corrected herself. Her voice was cheery and chirpy and most definitely _girly_.

And strangely familiar. Next student from Greenville High sired? Not a surprise, providing the fact that in a few minutes there would be another one turned. Or just brutally killed. Whatever.

"My ass is not bloody _skinny_," the male sounded affronted, "and it's sure as hell not in need of savin'."

"Yeah, right, because you _so_ weren't about to be dusted by – oh, gosh, unbelievable! – a local _slayer_."

Jenna hold her breath. How did she…?

"_A slayer_?" The English vampire repeated slowly, savouring those words.

The said slayer, feeling the adrenaline kicking in, made one last effort to free herself –

"Stop… bloody… wriggling!"

"You know, it's been scientifically proved that slayers who don't think they're going to be killed are much less wriggly," the girl noticed matter-of-factly.

"Why does she think she's going to be killed?"

Jenna froze.

"Don't know, unfortunate circumstances maybe. Night, a graveyard, a vamp sitting atop her."

"If I let her go, she'll stake me," came the calm and reasonable reply.

"C'mon, she's in my class, she can't be older than – what? Thirteen?"

The slayer didn't even notice when she was freed, the shocking realization striking her once again this night, as she recognized the girl's voice. Collecting her thoughts, she jumped on her feet.

"You?!" Jenna shouted accusingly, facing the pink-haired girl she had met in school.

"Um, me?" Carrie smiled shyly, looking away. "And – hey yourself."

_I moved here a week ago with my… older cousin, w-who's British and… _

Shit.

"B-but you're not a vampire – " She finally stuttered.

"A slayer, you say? Could believe that, seeing how smart she is _not_," the man who _was_ a vampire, joked.

"I'm sorry," Carrie apologized sincerely, ignoring her companion's retort. "I didn't want it to end like that… I would tell you… Eventually."

"What are you?" Jenna whispered in utter shock. "To live with… with such a _creature_ – "

"Hey, standing right here, Freckles!"

"I couldn't let you kill him. You have to know that – "

"All I have to know is how to plunge a stake into a vampire's heart!"

"Let me explain, it's important – "

"No, you let me explain," Jenna said through greeted teeth, anger raising in her. "And listen up, 'cause I'm gonna cover some basics here. This is my town, get it? And I won't allow any bloodsuckers wander around – not on my watch. You," she pointed at Carrie, "can leave. I'll cut you some slack for being human and extremely dumb. But he," she pointed at the pink girl's companion, "stays. Preferably, in the _ground_."

The vampire smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't hear you saying that neither when the bad guy had you pinned to the tomb stone, nor when _I_ had you pinned to the ground."

"You – "

"That's a big talk, Freckles, for such a little girl you are," the vampire didn't let her finish. "Very slayer like. No surprise here, considerin' the fact that the Council of Wankers teaches that rot all of its girls."

"Yeah, and how would you know?" Jenna challenged.

"Been there, done that." The Brit shrugged casually. He became serious in a moment, looking at her intently. "Known a few right blokes. Beside the point. The thing is, we had a little misunderstandin' here. I saved your life, havin' no idea who you are and now you wanna stake me, havin' no idea who _I_ am."

"Where did you get the idea I need to know that?"

The vampire's smile broadened and he turned to Carrie, "I like that one, Sunbeam. She's sassy. Look, love, if you run into that English guy of yours, who probably considers himself as your watcher, he'll tell you that not all vamps are black hats."

Jenna raised her eyebrows sceptically, "And you're one of them?"

"And how quick, isn't she?"

"Bull shit," the slayer exclaimed.

"Language."

Carrie rolled her eyes, her irritation growing. "You gonna tell her, Spike, or you two prefer to bicker the whole night? 'cause _hello_, some of us are neither a corpse, nor have superpowers and people in question are freezing now!"

The one called Spike shot the girl a dirty look. "You better stop bloody complain' and start thinkin' of an excuse good enough for me not to kill you for wanderin' in the cemeteries at night – "

"Tell me what?" Jenna asked, staring at this strange duo. She was starting to realize that indeed, nobody's going to hurt anybody and she became more relaxed, however still cautious.

"He is," Carrie said in a mockingly festive tone, "a vampire with a soul. Beware, forces of evil, his stupid hair and British curses nobody understands – "

Spike hit her playfully in the pink head. "Hey!"

The slayer blinked. Once. Twice.

"Huh?"

"Oh, the tormented soul of his shell or shell not but eventually shall be – "

"You're Angelus?"

Silence. Spike scolded, Carrie looked as if she was about to laugh. What did they think? That she was some kind of stupid, mindless muscle? Her watcher – her ex-watcher, the coward and the filthy traitor – left all his books in the basement she had been training in. Really, tons of old, smelly volumes. Quite a lecture for lonely, cold evenings… When he had left, Jenna had decided that she hadn't wanted to work with any of those Council jerks ever again. Still, she had needed somebody to do research for her. And since she hadn't got anybody for it, she had had to do it herself.

So she was no stupid, mindless muscle. She was well educated muscle.

"Are you Angelus?" She repeated patiently. "'cause if you are, gotta tell you – you looked differently on the sketches from my books – "

"No," Carrie answered for Spike, "he's the _other_ vampire with the soul. Look it up in a _revised_ edition."

"Why _the other_? Why can't he be _the other_ for once?"

"Because he was first? About a century faster – "

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yeah, right, forget it. Point is that I'm on your side, Freckles." He looked at Jenna intently. "And even if I'm not featured in your fancy books, you can check in with the Council."

Whoa. Checking in with the _Council_? Who was going to check who? Jenna, if Spike was really one of the good guys, or Spike, if Jenna was still in touch with watchers?

Considering the fact she had faked her own death just to get them out of her hair – she didn't like the idea of them coming back to her life.

"Let's assume I believe you," she started slowly, minding her own words. "Let's assume I won't ask how do you know about me being a slayer. What will happen then?"

"Nothin'," Spike answered. "Well, nothin' you don't want to happen, pet. We'll part here – I'll take Sunbeam home, you'll go back to yours. Kinda like a truce," he smiled mysteriously.

"A truce?"

"I'm not getting' into your way, you're not getting' into mine."

"How will I know you're not killing?"

"Told you, can call the watchers. If I lie, they'll send you enough of a backup to take down even me."

Jenna was silent for a moment, making her decision. 'kay, a quick list of pros and cons for the 'stakage'. Pros: he was a vampire. Vampires needed to be staked. Cons: he was a _master_ vampire and seeing him fighting had left Jenna without any doubts about her chances. Meaning – she had none. What was more, there was a possibility he was speaking truth. Next, seeing if he indeed had a soul would require contacting the Council, which she couldn't do – so a pro for staking-without-asking here. But how was she going to kill him on her own, lacking the watchers's support? Another con…

Finally, she looked straightly at him. "Fine. We've got ourselves a truce."

The vampire hold her gaze. After a few seconds, he put his hand on Carrie's shoulder. "Let's go, Sunbeam."

They turned around and started to walk away.

"Spike!"

He stopped without looking behind.

"Just because we've got a truce doesn't mean I trust you."

Jenna could swear that he smirked. He was silent for so long that she didn't think he'll answer her. But he did.

"That you don't."


	8. Now I'm Alive and Now I'm Not

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N: **Thank to my fabulous Beta, **Fetching Mad Scientist** and my reviewers.

I'm afraid it's the last chapter I can post so soon and without a delay. I hope you understand that both writing and having a story beta'd take some time. Be patient and stay with, my Beta is already working on the next part.

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

"Yellow, Peaches."

Angel jumped, completely taken by surprise. He felt his annoyance growing. "Spike," he growled, knowing that he'd been startled deliberately. "What can I do to make you leave?"

The younger vampire chuckled and took a seat in front of Angel's desk. "Not much, I suppose," he beamed. "You can try, though."

Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, looked directly at his grandchild, William the Bloody. He sighed wearily, "Let's not prolong this torment. What do you want?"

"Catch up on the old times? Ask how have you been?"

Angel just stared.

"Well," Spike admitted with a shrug, "maybe I would. If I actually cared." His tone became tense, "I have to talk to you."

"Wow, I wouldn't have guessed," Angel said, rolling his eyes.

"As incredible as it may sound – I'm serious here. Dead serious, to be specific."

It sounded incredible. But there was no sign of amusement on Spike's face. Huh.

"On one condition – this time, you'll tell the truth."

Spike made a hurt face. "Me? Lyin'?"

"Cut the crap, Spike. I'm way too old to fall for this. And, I've known you way too long. You could have fooled the kids, but I'm not buying a single word of that shit you gave us earlier. So spill, or leave. I'm busy." He and Spike had been playing this game for centuries now, and he was starting to feel tired of their constant bickering.

Spike smirked. "I lied, you say?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, "Enlighten me."

'He needs proof? Fine.'

"Okay. I don't know if what you said about meeting this slayer girl was true or not, and I don't care." Angel leaned forward, staring intently, "But I can see, what you were trying to do."

"Don't make me wait any longer, Peaches."

"You were doing your best to distract their attention." It was Angel's turn to smirk confidentially. "You didn't want them to ask about this other girl. The one with pink hair."

To his surprise, his grandchild seemed anxious. "It was that obvious?"

"No," Angel sighed. This was no time for jokes. "I'm pretty sure they have no idea what this is all about. Just me."

"And this is just my bloody luck," Spike replied.

They were silent for a moment.

"Carrie… Carrie's special," Spike started slowly, not sure what to say.

"I got that part. Care to be more specific?"

"See, she's got some special abilities, that get her into trouble."

Angel tensed. "How bad?"

"Demon mercenary kind of bad."

"You're planning on being monosyllabic? It really makes the conversation difficult."

"She's a telepath."

"She's a what-path?" Angel asked, taken completely by surprise.

"A telepath," Spike rolled his eyes. "A mind-reader."

"I know what a telepath is, Spike," Angel snapped angrily. "But how – "

"No bloody idea," his grandchild sighed wearily. "Met her in New York, all alone. Some nasty buggers on her tail… Had to do somethin' about it. Had to keep her safe."

"Her parents?" The older vampire already knew the answer but –

"Dead. She's got no family, no friends. No one. As much as I hate it," Spike continued, looking away, "I have to be honest with you. Nowadays, telepaths are more rare than anything – I actually haven't managed to find anybody else like her. Guess they bloody don't organize conventions, eh?" He chuckled humorlessly. "Do you have any idea what someone – someone like we used to be – could do, if they got hold of her?"

Angel had but remained quiet.

"Nearly soddin' everythin'," Spike said slowly, accenting every word. "No wonder they're a target for every demon underground community. Check it out in the Internet, mate – they advertise shamelessly. Can you imagine," he went on quietly, "what would they do with her? Bleedin' band of animals… No idea how fragile a girl like she is. How easily she can be broken. Seein' what's goin' on down there – in the _real_ demon world. Forced to do _things_ I don't wanna name, kept in a cage like a circus monkey... I'm not exaggerating," he snapped angrily, seeing the doubting expression on Angel's face," and I'm not making this up. Believe me, I've got the information from the same sources. Couldn't let it happen to her, Peaches. Just bloody couldn't. But before I go any further I have to tell you one more thing – knowing this… It could kill you."

"So why are you telling me about it?" his grandsire asked, confused. As much as they hated each other, Angel was sure that Spike wouldn't endanger him or his friends – not after the soul, that's for sure.

"We're already dead, mate," Spike shrugged in response, "You have the right to know who it is you're takin' in… If you are."

It wasn't a statement. It was a question. William the Bloody was asking for permission to stay?

The world was doomed. Definitely.

But there was only one thing Angel could do.

"Considering the fact that I am – "

"Considerin' the fact that you are," Spike quickly went on, obviously relieved, "I have to ask you one more thing. If I go down – "

"One can only hope," Angel muttered under his breath.

" – Take care of Carrie. I can't find her a normal home, 'cause she can't be left without someone who's strong enough to protect her… So I want you look after her."

It was strange. How long had it been? Angel thought about old times, when the younger vampire had worshipped him both as a friend and a master. How his adoration had turned into jealousy, and jealousy into hatred. How they wouldn't have even talked to each other, and how they would have killed the other one if only given a chance. He remembered his own anger, when he had learned about Spike and Buffy, and the blinding envy he had felt after she had told him that Spike had gained his soul by choice. He remembered how they had been getting along during Angel's Wolfram and Hart days. How they fought over everything. And then, with an uncontrollable shudder, he recalled the battle in the dark alleys of LA. And he couldn't deny it anymore. He trusted Spike back then, and that he trusted him now.

Apparently, Spike felt the same way.

And after all, they were family, weren't they?

"All right," Angel simply agreed. He wasn't expecting Spike to thank him. He was right – Spike didn't say it, but his eyes gave it away. He was really grateful.

"Well, I'll be goin' then. I'm afraid you'll have to fight this blood curdling battle against the unpaid bills on your own."

And here they were back into what was safe. Bickering. And that was all right.

Angel grimaced, "Get the hell out of my sight," he growled.

"With pleasure," Spike responded insolently. "Was planning on going out to see if good ol' LA has changed much anyway."

He was reaching for the door knob, when Angel called him again, "Why me? Why… why not Buffy?"

Spike turned to face him. He looked away, thinking of an answer. "Don't really know, Peaches. Just needed to get Carrie the protection she needs. Couldn't afford dealing with female moodiness, I guess."

It really wasn't a satisfying answer but Angel couldn't ask any more questions because Spike turned and left the study without another word.

Angel remembered Buffy's mind reading episode, and the thought that it was a good thing that vampires were impossible to read for telepaths, crossed his mind.

* * *

"Okay, here we go," Willow said, focused on the data screened on her laptop. "You say her name is –"

"Jennifer… Jennifer Abrams, I suppose," Giles finished. "Well, according to Spike, of course."

Willow sighed, "Giles, stop being so suspicious. He has no reason to lie."

"Yeah, right, Will," Xander snorted, "' 'Cause he's such a nice and truthful _evil_ vampire – "

"He's not evil anymore," the witch cut in, as she started to search through the Council's database. They were sitting in the room she was sharing with Buffy. At the moment however, her friend was in the Hyperion's basement, training with a group of slayers, so they had the bedroom for themselves. "For God's sake, he's got a soul for years now, and he did save the world! Not to mention the fact that he was working with Angel two years ago – "

"Helping him run the most evil corporation ever?"

Willow still looked unconvinced. "I just don't like that we're checking his story, behind everybody's back."

"No, you've got a problem with checking it behind _Buffy's_ back," Xander pointed out.

"She's too busy to be bothered with such trifles," Giles reasoned, however from the corner of her eye Willow noticed he had taken the glasses off his nose and started polishing them. And that meant he was getting nervous, too.

"And even if she weren't, she wouldn't give a damn," Xander added, shrugging casually. "You saw her today – she didn't look even slightly interested in this whole situation with Spike. Meaning, she doesn't care."

The redhead witch didn't reply, knowing Xander to well to even try convincing him otherwise. As much as she loved Xander, she had to admit that he had never forgiven neither Angel nor Spike the simple fact that they were vampires. And there was nothing she could do to change Xander's opinion. And there was nothing that would convince him that people seeing those two vampires in a slightly different light weren't either evil themselves or just plain crazy.

Personally, Willow didn't like the idea of searching for proof of Spike's treachery, because she really doubted this little _checking_ thing was anything other than a show of Xander's mistrust. Although she perfectly understood the origins of Xander's hatred, Giles's reasons were still a bit unclear for her. She knew that he and Wood had once set up a trap of some kind in order to get rid of Spike. She also remembered that Giles had considered him to be an uncertain ally before he got his soul back, and a dangerous distraction for Buffy after he did so. But it was all behind them, so why were they so eager to discredit him?

Willow thought it was just stupid and childish.

Xander's _denial_ however was another story. It was somehow lame that after so many years together, he still knew so little about Buffy. Willow on the other hand had no illusions – Buffy did give a damn. Buffy did care. And right now, Buffy was really lost.

Though she seemed pissed off about Spike not telling her he had come back from the deadest dead, she hadn't been hiding from anyone how grateful she had been for his sacrifice. Yeah, knowing that Angel had been the CEO of Wolfram-and-we're-evil-Hart had made her suspicious and less trustful about her ex-boyfriend's acts, but still, Willow had never heard her commenting on his collaboration with Spike. She didn't know if that had been because her friend had felt some kind of loyalty to the vampire, or if she was choked with hidden anger and hurt whenever she heard his name.

And the fun just kept coming –

"I've got her!" Willow exclaimed with triumph. Giles and Xander leaned forward to have a better look. "Jennifer Abrams. Status: potential. Watcher: Miles Winston Rutheford. Location: Greenville. Born: 1992. Died – " Her eye grew bigger, as she whispered in utter shock. "Died: 2002 –"

"Killed by the Bringers," Giles continued with amazement. "Surrounded in St. James Park after the death of her Watcher… Look at her status. It states that she's never become a slayer in the first place. How? How can she be dead if she's here – "

"He brought a zombie with him!"

However shocked and confused themselves, Giles and Willow still stared at Xander as if he announced his engagement with a three-head dragon; or Anya, for that matter.

Willow rolled her eyes and focused on the screen again. "Don't be ridiculous, Xan. She's not a zombie."

"And how would you know?" the young man challenged.

"Um, hello? I am a witch, a damn good one, in fact. She's got an absolutely normal aura of a teenage girl… Well, a teenage girl with superpowers, but still – "

They remained silent for a moment.

"Is there any possibility there's an error in our database?" Giles finally asked.

"W-well," Willow started uncertainly, "there's always a _possibility_… Slight, yes… A-and despite the fact I was pretty sure that I updated the data correctly… And put a magical barrier on the system – "

The Watcher sighed. He thanked Willow for her time and headed to the doors.

"Hey, G-man, and where the hell are you going?" Xander called after him.

"To get the answers, of course," the older man replied, not turning around.

"You gonna talk with Spike?"

"I'm going to talk with the girl."

* * *

Giles knocked. He hoped that Fred (what a strange name for a sweet girl she was) remembered correctly what room she gave to Carrie and Jenna. And that indeed Spike was out, as she had told him.

Doors flew open and Giles faced the petite girl with pink hair. She gave him a knowing look and her eyes narrowed.

"Jenna!" she shouted, not turning around. "Someone wants to see you!"

The Watcher stood motionless and speechless. How did she…? This girl was quite smart.

"I'm in the bathroom!" came the response, "Let this someone in. I'll be out in a minute!"

Carrie stepped away, silently allowing Giles in.

He looked around. The room was a mess, clothes were all around, the bed looked as if a tornado went through it. He spotted some books lying on the floor, along with stakes, several strings of garlic cloves and small bottles of holy water.

Meanwhile, Carrie crossed the room to open the window. Cool, night air was let in, and she sat on a stool, still watching him –

'Watching the Watcher.'

– Intently.

It was strange and a little embarrassing how uncomfortable this teenage girl made him feel. Thankfully, after a moment, Jenna left the bathroom.

"You were saying there's someone – " she started, but paused, seeing Giles, " – looking for me." Giles got another hostile glare. What had he done to earn such treatment? It seemed he should have left his earlier comments on the girls' unwelcome appearance to himself. He had only one chance to make a good first impression, and, he started to realize, he screwed it up.

"Yes, that would be me," he said politely. "I'm afraid that we didn't get a chance for a proper introduction. Rupert Giles, the head Watcher of the Watchers' Council."

Silence. Angry looks. He started to regret that Spike was not present. He would prefer his annoying presence to facing those two under-age Furies.

"You wanna throw him out of the window?" Carrie asked matter-of-factly, completely ignoring him.

Jenna cocked her head. "Nah," she responded casually, "you'll be grounded for the next century. You heard Spike – no maiming, torturing, killing, singing out loud, dancing naked and talking about Backstreet _bloody_ Boys." She smiled wickedly.

"Well, _yeah_," Carrie rolled her eyes. "But he didn't say anything about _windows_."

Giles was not impressed at all. He waited.

"I think I can handle it on my own," Jenna spoke slowly.

Hearing her friend's statement, Carrie jumped off the stool and headed to the door.

"Just remember to get rid of the body when you're finished," she added before leaving them alone. "And don't stain the carpet. It's not ours."

When the door was shut behind Carrie's back, Jenna crossed her arms and waited for Giles to speak.

"Well?" she asked. He was still thinking of what to say. 'Hello, our data shows you are a little dead' was rather out of question –

And then it struck him. Good Lord, was he really afraid of a teenage slayer? He who had been Buffy's Watcher for seven years? He who dealt with Xander's stupid jokes, with Willow's shyness, Cordelia's insolence and Dawn' whining? Clearly, becoming the _head_ Watcher, and having little contact with slayers had made him forget what teenage angst was, and how to deal with it. Was he really standing like an utter ponce, uncomfortable with a girl scared enough to threaten him with throwing him out a bloody _window_?

"There's no need to be rude," he reprimanded her as he crossed his arms and straightened slightly. "I don't remember that I actually did anything to deserve such impolite treatment. I still hope that despite some misunderstandings, we will be able to have a civil conversation. Since what I have to tell you is rather important."

"Yeah, right," the girl snorted and looked away. "_Impolite treatment_. _Misunderstandings_. _Civil conversation_… So many words and so little to say. You want me to join the rest of the Council's slayers. I don't want to. So I won't. End of the civil conversation."

If Giles weren't experienced in dealing with girls her age, he would be absolutely stunned and thrown off balance by Jenna's insolence. What was more, at first, he hadn't got the impression she was of an insolent kind. Now, there was so much cockiness in her, that… All right, he _was_ a little surprised by the bitterness of her words. That was unusual for a girl so young.

He didn't realize that he had asked the question aloud, "Why?"

Jenna blinked. "Why what?"

"Why you don't want to join the other slayers? After all, you're one of them – you are very alike… You possess the same strength that brings you the same problems. You share the same destiny that may bring you death. Why you don't want to join them? They are the only ones that will understand you – "

"I'm being understood well enough," the girl cut him off. "I'm not alone, you know."

"Ah, yes. Indeed – you're not," Giles whispered, but there was no comfort, only sarcasm in those words.

Jenna reacted immediately. It was that kind of reaction Giles was counting on.

"Yeah, I'm not," the slayer snapped back angrily. "I've got friends I can trust. I've got a tutor who cares about me. Who _watches_ my back, doesn't leave me as soon as something bigger than usual shows up! So thank you very much, but I don't want to have anything in common with your stupid Council – "

"How very mature of you," the Watcher muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are a _slayer_," he replied with force Jenna wasn't suspecting he had. "Chosen to fight the forces of evil. The power you were given makes you responsible for other people."

"Oh, save it! Believe me, I know everything about _power_ and _destiny_, and _evil_, and _responsibility_. I heard the speech from my Watcher many times. The last one was right before he tried to run away from Greenville and leave me for a certain death! So don't tell me about _responsibility_, 'cause you have no such right, 'cause you, Watchers, know nothing about responsibilities! All you do is _watch_," Jenna whispered bitterly and looked away, focusing on some invisible spot behind his back. Giles remained silent and lowered his own gaze. But just a second before he did so, he noticed something shiny on her cheek.

A tear.

"I thought he liked me," Jenna went on quietly, still staring into the empty space. "He was always saying I was like a daughter to him. He was telling me stories about the slayer line. About what it would be like if I became chosen. I was training and learning from him, about vampires and demons… I was trying my best to make him proud of me, you know? I thought he was," she stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And then one day _they_ came. They were waiting for me outside the school. It wasn't even that late, can you imagine that? I felt someone was following and I started to run… I couldn't head home and endanger my family, besides, they knew nothing about me being a potential. So instead, I went to his place, hoping he'd know what to do. At first, I thought he did. He grabbed a weapon, took my hand and led me out of the house. We started to run, and they were just behind us. We were crossing the St. James's Park, when we ran into another one of them. That was the first time I saw their faces – eyeless and mouthless… He took one of them out, and his leg got hurt and… And the rest of them were still on our heels. So h-he just looked at me again and his eyes were so scary… So…empty. He told me that we wouldn't make it out. Not both of us, and that he had family in England. And that he didn't want to die – " Jenna was choked with tears. "So he hit me in the head and left me lying there, in a pool of my own blood, still concious enough to know what was was going to happen next. I could hear them… I could hear them coming."

Giles took a step in her direction – he acted on impulse, trying to soothe this broken child, who had seen too much in her short life. In response, she backed away, making it clear that she didn't need his pity. She wiped the tears from her freckled face with one swift motion and carried on.

"But then… This girl showed up. S-she was just a bit older than me. She knelt by my side and asked me what had happened, who had done this to me… She had a mobile phone, and called the ambulance. I managed to ask her to move me out of the path. She didn't understand why. She was saying something about shock and not moving hurt people, but I insisted, I was so desperate to hide… So she did it, just before I passed out. And while I was lying in the bushes… While I was lying in the bushes, they came. They took her. I-I don't know why. Maybe because they were blind. I was out cold. Close to death, and she was alive and warm and moving and maybe it fooled them, maybe… So they killed her. They killed her instead of me."

Jenna closed her eyes and hid her face in her palms. Her arms were trembling and Giles didn't know what to do. He just stood there like a ponce, paralysed by what he had heard.

"Later, they told me that I missed a good fight," she smiled bitterly, still not looking at him. "Police caught those Bringers," it was the first time she'd named them, Giles noticed, "Tried to arrest them. But you know evil guys – not so much with the surrendering – so they shot the bastards. But before they managed to take them out, the Bringers killed my Watcher. He never made it out of St. James's."

"Why didn't you – " Giles forced himself to speak, but she didn't let him finish the sentence.

"Why didn't I what? _Report _that?" Jenna snorted. "Why do you think? I did something better…I broke into your database and killed myself." She snapped her fingers, "Just like that. You were going to send somebody to check this whole case – to see what happened to me – you had information on some girl killed that day. That still needed to be confirmed. So, I logged in as one of you, and wrote the report myself," she shrugged casually. "Potentials and their Watchers were dying all around the world, and you had a great mess in the system. I'm good with computers. I took advantage."

"And of this nameless girl, too, I presume?"

The slayer gave him a furious glare, "Look, that nameless girl – she was a nameless hero. She did more for me than any of you. But… She. Was. Dead," she accented every word. "She could help me. She did. So now you know the pathetic story of my life. You know what you can do with all your Watchery wisdom…? "

Before she had a chance to finish the sentence, the door slung open and Spike came in. He didn't look very happy. He gave Giles a warning glance.

"Well, Rupert," he said through gritted teeth. "What a surprise." The vampire looked at Jenna, and spotted her red eyes and wet cheeks. "You all right, pet? That git wasn't mean to you, was he?"

Jenna shook her head. "I'm good. Jeez, can't you and Carrie even consider the thought of me being all right on my own?" There was a hint of hurt in her voice.

"No," Spike answered without hesitation, which made Jenna smile.

"Thank you, Jenna, for this conversation," Giles managed to say, and he headed to the door, more confused than he was before he walked in.


	9. Sisterhood

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

**A/N: **Another chapter beta'd be lovely **Fetching Mad Scientist**. What was this film's title? "My Beta Is Great and I'm Not?" :) If there are any mistakes left, they're totally my fault.

I've got a brand new chapter, all beta'd and ready for you to read it :) I know I promised you a Spuffy story and believe me, these two will have their time. Until their encounter (oh, I won't say 'reunion', nobody's talking about one of those :), you have to be patient and let me tell two other stories about two special girls, who'll rock Scoobies' and AI's lives.

Still looking for a person, who'd like to make a **banner **for this story (if you're interested, e-mail me).

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

The next morning Carrie had a hell of a headache. Though she had been expecting it – new place, new people, lots and lots of _thoughts_ – it didn't make it any easier to deal with. Jenna was sitting beside her, looking a bit frightened. She handed her friend some painkillers and a glass of water.

"Feeling any better?"

Carrie smiled at her weakly. "It's not like the pain will vanish the second after taking a medicine," she pointed out. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. So," she took a sip of her water, "did you phone your parents?"

Jenna expected she would hear this question soon, but she didn't have to like it, "Like they care."

"Sis, they're going to be worried sick! They let you go because you promised you'd phone home immediately after we got here. That was a day ago. And you know that when Spike learn that you constantly _forget_ about contacting them he'll put you on a first bus to Greenville."

"Carrie, they probably haven't even noticed that I'm gone – "

"They love you very much. They just have other problems right now – "

"Yeah, getting divorced is a big thing, isn't it?" Jenna snorted. "Who'd find a second for their own daughter? This year I've spent more time in your, and Spike's, house than in my own. And, did I hear any complaints? Come on, would any normal parents allow their kid to bond with an eccentric Englishman and his rebellious cousin? – "

"I don't want to argue with you… Jen, just promise me that you'll let them know you're still alive. Pretty please? I don't care about… Argh!" Suddenly, Carrie caught her head and moaned unhappily.

"Okay, okay, I promise I will. Just calm down and stop worrying, it only makes the pain worse… Maybe I'll go for Spike?" Jenna quickly offered. She felt a bit guilty, because she shouldn't have used her best friend's headache to avoid this talk. Jenna was just glad to get out of Greenville, far away from her parents' arguing and flying plates… That's probably why Spike had agreed to take her with them – well, besides introducing her to the Council, of course. Personally, Jenna would gladly forget about this second reason; but, like she had avowed earlier, she trusted Spike also on this one.

Carrie watched the slayer. Seeing Jenna's internal struggle, she decided to let it go and leave this talk for another occasion. She massaged her temples, considering Jenna's idea. "Nah, no need to worry him. He had a rough night, remember?"

Indeed, Spike had been out again shortly after popping in to check on them and scaring off Giles. Carrie suspected that Angel had sent him to collect some information. Spike had always been able, if not to blend in and listen, then, to force the right people to say the right things. Either by drinking, bribing, beating them up, or just making friends. He was a master in this area.

Now he had to be sleeping, and Carrie wanted him to rest. She could feel his nervousness, how hard it was for him to see all those people again. He had to have his full strength to get through tomorrow night.

And well, she had been living with him for like…? Two years? She knew it was far too early for him to get up.

She closed her eyes and lay quietly.

"Maybe you want to stay alone for awhile? I'll go, if you – " Jenna started, getting up from the bed, but Carrie grabbed her arm, her eyes snapping open.

"Please, stay," she asked quietly. "It's better having you here."

"But it must be disturbing, you'll never rest properly with me thinking out loud," Jenna joked lightly.

"Believe me, everyone in this hotel is thinking out loud. Your thoughts are nice," Carrie murmured, shutting her eyes again. "Friendly. Friendly thoughts are good. You don't mind staying, do you?"

The slayer replied with a smile, "Hey, friends are definitely for radiating friendly thoughts."

"So I'm _friends_ now?" Carrie teased. "About a year ago you, quote, 'hated that pink monkey', end of quote."

Jenna smiled, "Well, you're still a pink monkey but – "

Carrie jumped up and hit Jenna with a pillow. She was definitely feeling better.

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

Each time she had to cross St. James's park she felt as if she entered some kind of a sanctuary. But not a holy, calming one – St. James's was a place where two people had died. 'Three, actually,' she corrected herself. Rutheford, anonymous girl, and herself. At least, that was what the Council's database was now stating.

It was getting late and she had to hurry if she wanted to get home before the sundown. Of course, she wouldn't have been that long at school if she could have helped it – unfortunately, Mrs. Roberts was very strict about her helping with some stupid science project. It wasn't her fault she was good at Maths and Physics.

Maybe, in a different life, Jenna would be happy to stay after school and do pointless experiments with a bunch of other kids. However, in this one, she had only one wish – go home early, do her homework and get some sleep before the next patrol. Was it too much to ask for? –

Jenna stopped abruptly. She stared at one of the park benches, currently occupied by a person she wanted to see the least. She was actually ready to turn around and walk away (not a thing a slayer would do, yes, but these weren't working hours anyway), when the person looked up from the book she was reading, and looked right at her.

And made it impossible for her to flee.

'Damn it.'

Jenna hoped, that looking ostentatiously away, and passing by as if nobody was there would be the key to successfully getting away.

Well, she was wrong.

"You're avoiding me," Carrie stated calmly, forcing Jenna to stop and look at her. "How long will you keep pretending that I'm not here?"

"Until you aren't," Jenna told the other girl angrily. "I'll make it clear for you: I don't want to have anything to do with you. Okay? So, leave me alone. It's getting late, my parents are going to freak out if I don't come back in thirty minutes." She resumed walking.

"Jenna!" Carrie called after her. "You know we can't leave it like that. Something has to be done – "

"Yeah, you can move to the other side of the globe! You and your vampire buddy."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Is that what this is all about? You're afraid of Spike?"

In a few leaps, Jenna was standing right in front of Carrie. "I am not afraid of any vampire," she said through gritted teeth.

"So why are you running away?"

"Him – vampire. Me – slayer. You – not wanting the bloodshed. Are you getting the picture?"

"It doesn't have to be that way."

"Why are you so desperate to make me – I don't know – _like_ him?" Jenna asked, not knowing how to get rid of Carrie.

"Because… I-it's important, " the pink-haired girl finished, unsure. "I can't tell you why it is… not when I'm not certain you won't – "

"Right. When you'll finally be able to tell why it's so _important_," Jenna mocked, "call me. Adios."

She sped up, cursing her bad luck. This little talk had cost her those precious minutes that parted her from the sundown – it was already dark. But no, that couldn't have been the end of her trouble. Jenna didn't even get a chance to leave St. James's – in a few minutes, she heard a scream. Someone in a disturbingly familiar voice called for help.

'Guess my shift has just started,' she thought grimly, before running back to the place she had talked to Carrie. The nearer she was, the more positive she was getting. She felt goosebumps covering her skin, when her slayer senses kicked in – vampires.

And indeed, two of them were after the girl. She was very fast, Jenna could see it, but not fast enough – they surrounded her and while she was trying to avoid the first demon, the other one grabbed her arm. When Carrie turned around and kicked him in the guts, the second vamp hit her in the head. Carrie fell helplessly; her short, pink hair quickly became red on the left side. Jenna caught a glimpse of a stake Carrie was holding, too weak to use it.

The slayer stepped in.

The vampires, certain that the prey was too hurt to get away, turned their ugly faces in Jenna's direction. Deep in the pocket of her jacket, she clenched her own weapon, waiting for them to strike. To her surprise, they stayed in place and dropped the game faces.

They weren't going to attack. Weren't they hungry for another girl?

"What are you doing here?" The first one snarled, stepping in front of Carrie's motionless form.

"Nothing," she replied innocently. "Just, you know, walking by."

"Make sure you'll walk by in the _other_ direction," the second vampire said threateningly. "There's no reason for you to wander around here."

"Not _exactly_," Jenna started slowly, stretching vowels. "This girl and I," she pointed to Carrie, who was now lying in a pool of her own blood, "we've got some unfinished business." With every carefully said word, Jenna was approaching the demons. "You know, I just _hate_ that pink monkey… I want to watch you hurting her."

No vampire could stay indifferent to such pure cruelty and malice. Those two burst into a sincere laugh.

Jenna took another few steps.

"You heard that, Jim? God, isn't she the sweetest sadist you've ever seen? Can we keep her?"

"If it was up to me, we'd make her one of us," Jim agreed, looking at Jenna in awe. "But it's not our call. Leave her, Sam, we've got a work to do. Boss would stake us for getting distracted. And you, girl, run off, we're – " Before he could finish that sentence, Jenna plunged a stake into his heart.

It didn't go that easy with the remaining vampire. Jenna was so caught up in the fight, she didn't notice Carrie, who managed to stand up, stake in hand. Nor did the vamp. He paid a high price for his lack of awareness – Carrie staked him, just like his friend – absolutely taken by surprise.

Both now covered in dust, the girls stood in front of each other, panting.

And then Carrie collapsed.

Jenna knelt by her side – she was still conscious. The slayer gently touched Carrie's head, eyeing her wound. "It looks ugly," she told her sincerely. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"No hospitals," Carrie cried in panic. "I have to go home, I have to – "

"Damn, girl, if we don't get you patched up, you won't stop bleeding! I'll call for help."

"No help, no hospitals. Too dangerous. More of them. Wilson's Avenue, 2098. Please."

Jenna shook her head. "I can't carry you on my back – "

There was a glimpse of humour in Carrie's eyes. "Thought you were a slayer."

Jenna couldn't think of an answer to that, so she just helps the other girl stand up; and half carrying her, started walking in the Wilson's Avenue direction.


	10. Fight Club

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. 

**A/N: **Great thanks to my wonderful Beta reader, **Fetching Mad Scientist**. There are no words for saying what a great help she is - not only is she checking 'Insight', she also gives so me many tips about English/American language and sometimes other matters. If there's still something wrong with this chapter, it's because of me being careless.

Also, I'd like to thank those readers, who review each, or nearly each chapter, making it worth writing and letting me know someone actually like this story. So: forestwife, darklover, teenahali, RabidReject and others I haven't listed here - thank you!

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

Carrie sat on the stairs, very content with herself. If it wasn't for her, Jenna would probably stay in their room for the rest of the day, maybe come out to grab something to eat before hiding in the bedroom again. Although Jenna was very reluctant, Carrie dragged her out where the people lived.

She was sure that, someday, Jenna would thank her for it.

In the kitchen, where they went to make themselves a cup of tea (not a very Californian thing, but try living with a British vampire, and not become a tea addict), they bumped into Cath. Literary. Split tea caused difficult-to-stop-giggles, which led to introductions and so-called _making friends_.

Oh my God, Cath was a slayer just like Jenna! What a coincidence!

Of course, there was no coincidence. Cath, in Carrie's humble opinion, was perfect for convincing Jenna that the company of another super strong teenager could be a nice experience. At first sight, Carrie learned that Cath was a sincere, gentle, bright and warmhearted girl. At second sight, it became obvious that there was nothing Cath was ashamed of, nothing she would hide. She was easy to read, like an open book. And, absolutely likable.

Talking with Cath was as easy as reading her mind. Cath was their age, she came from Alaska and every ten minutes complained in a funny, joking way about high temperatures in California. She had fair, straight hair and bright blue eyes, which made her look less like an Eskimo and more Norwegian, or Swedish. They chattered for a while happily. Jenna was seemingly feeling more and more comfortable when Cath asked her if she was going to train with the other slayers now that she was in the Hyperion. "Of course she is!" Carrie answered before Jenna got a chance to say no. Jenna scowled at her best friend, thought a few threats, repeated how much she hated Carrie for doing that, and smiled helplessly at beaming Cath.

When Spike got up, Carrie was going to tell him everything, and she was sure he would be very satisfied, too.

Carrie returned her attention to training Jenna. Fortunately, there had been no school-ish _say hello to your new friend_, before Jenna could join the others. Cath just introduced the new girl to her own friends, while Carrie, already making herself comfortable on the stairs, waved to them cheerily. The slayers were using the spacious hotel basement as a training room. Although roomy, the basement still couldn't seat all of the LA girls, so General, their beloved and feared Ma'am, had separated them into thirty-person units made of girls of the same age, that were supposed to train and patrol together. Currently, the Council had, in The Hyperion, two hundred and ten active slayers, which gave them seven disposable troops.

And then there was Jenna.

Cath assured them that they don't have to ask anybody's permission, that a new girl was always welcomed, so there was no problem at all, and Captain Fitzgerald wouldn't fuss over it.

Captain Kennedy Fitzgerald turned out to be a short, dark-haired woman with strong, muscled limbs and a firm look in her eyes. During the whole session, she kept pacing before the first line, looking for any mistakes in the slayers' movements. Before ordering the right thing she would shout, "Attention!" and then give the trainees some Japanese or maybe Chinese word, that most probably meant _roundhouse kick_ or _left hand punch_, or _you're all stupid_, or something like that. Although Carrie had to match up each term with Captain's thoughts to understand her instructions, Jenna had no such problem – Carrie knew that her friend had spent many hours studying her Watcher's books and learning how to fight and recognize demon species. It made her, as Jenna called it,_self-sufficient_. And right now, it didn't make Jenna suck.

"Attention!" Captain yelled once more and then said something resembling an awful cough.

Carrie felt that the more the slayers trained, the clearer their minds became. The same thing happened when Jenna was sparring with Spike. 'Strange people,' Carrie mused, her own mind finally free. 'You'd think they need a tactic, some kind of a plan. Spike's always been telling Jenna to use her head, or she'd lose. But when you watch them, when you feel them, it appears that during a fight they think of nothing.'

As long as the girls were training perfectly synchronized, Carrie's thoughts were drifting away, not focusing on their _huhs!_ and moves. But suddenly something changed; something ruined the order Captain managed to put the trainees in.

Carrie immediately spotted the cause of the unexpected mess: Jenna.

At first, Carrie didn't know what was happening with her friend. But after a minute of intently watching her, Carrie finally understood the situation.

Jenna began working out on her own, however she followed her trainer's orders. She found her own rhythm and her own way of fighting. She moved differently – truth be told, more graciously and precisely. She also appeared to be faster. Jenna simply had surpassed the rest of the fourteen-year-old-slayers. Maybe, at first she tried to stay on the same level as the others, but now, absolutely caught in the moment and thinking of nothing, following her instincts… Well, right now, she forgot about it and showed her real skill.

Okay, Jenna being scary good at kicking ass wasn't a bad thing. However, Carrie felt that it led to trouble. And when did Carrie's intuition, and enhanced senses, mistake her? –

"You, slayer! What do you think you're doing? Where have you lost the rhythm?" Captain's angry scream confirmed Carrie's worst suspicions. With a final _huh!_ the trainees froze in position. Apart from Jenna, who just stopped and stood in her place calmly, clearly not understanding what was going on.

When Kennedy approached her, she looked around, hoping she was not the slayer in question.

Captain's irritated glare, however, left Jenna without any doubts, whom she was referring to.

"Uh, sorry," she smiled apologetically. "Got caught up in a moment."

All of the girls gathered in the basement held their breaths. Carrie rose slowly, getting ready to intervene – either by dragging Jenna out of there, or by running for help. She desperately tried to reach Captain's and Jenna's minds, hoping that she would manage to foresee the upcoming events, but she was too inexperienced to succeed in a crowd. She couldn't understand particular thoughts. All she caught was a feeling of nervousness, curiosity, anger, fear and aggression… all mixed up.

"Is this how you refer to your Captain, slayer?!" Kennedy yelled, enraged by Jenna's lack of respect.

"Jeez, freaking out _much_? I told you I'm sorry. I'm not gonna repeat that."

"Down and give me fifty!" Captain totally lost it.

"Fifty of what? Candies from the nearest shop?"

"Fifty push-ups, you _maggot_!"

"Not likely. God, what is this? The Council of Watchers or some para-military scout camp?" Jenna looked around incredulously. "And what's a_maggot_? Is that even a word?"

Slowly, the slayers surrounding Jenna took a few steps away from her, giving her more space to do those fifty push-ups.

Kennedy completely lost her temper. Although she stopped shouting, her words were full of badly hidden hatred, "Your name and the location of the Council's branch you work for."

'Please, please, don't say anything stupid,' Carrie prayed silently, feeling that Captain was on the edge and it would take only one insolent retort to –

"How about: Kiss my ass, you sadistic freak?"

- Set her on fire. Seriously, it looked as if Kennedy was ready to explode. But before she did anything, Cath, who was standing on Jenna's left, straightened up, saluted stiffly and shouted, "Slayer Cathrine O'Neil, ma'am. I report that I am responsible for the current situation, ma'am."

Captain looked at her expectantly, while Jenna laughed nervously, "Cath, tell me it's all a joke, some kind of a game – "

But the blond remained motionless, dutifully staring ahead. "Slayer Jennifer Abrams doesn't belong to our unit, ma'am. Actually, she doesn't belong to the Council at all. She arrived to Los Angeles yesterday, accompanied by a vampire and a civilian. It was I who asked her to join today's training, ma'am. I didn't know it'd be a problem. I thought that – "

Fitzgerald shot Cath an angry glare, "Apparently, you haven't thought at all, O'Neil. I remind you that slayers are not allowed to switch places in their groups without an Officer's permission. Not to mention unregistered ones. Rules have to be obliged, O'Neil. The Code is not to be broken," she said through gritted teeth. "You will be punished for your disobedience."

Cath's naturally pale face now became alarmingly white. "Y-yes, ma'am. I apologize, ma'am," she lowered her head guiltily.

"A hundred. For starters."

Jenna couldn't believe her eyes, when Cath – sweet, funny, witty Cath – fell on her knees without another word, and started to do those damned push-ups, her face grim, and a determined look in her icy blue eyes.

"Cath, get up," Jenna pleaded, glancing nervously around them. "You didn't do anything, and even if you did, they can't treat you like that – "

"O'Neil knows her place," Kennedy chimed in, "and respects the chain of command. She agrees with our hierarchy. You, however, seem to think that you're better than the rest of us."

Carrie immediately detected a provocation hidden behind Captain's words. She hoped that Jenna would see it as well.

"If being like you means being constantly bossed around by a bunch of sad losers… then yeah, I'm better," Jenna challenged, proving that she didn't notice anything suspicious in Kennedy's statement. "God, I can't decide what's more pathetic – you, you poor excuse for a leader, or those lying bastards, the Watchers, nosing around – "

Carrie somehow managed to reach her furious friend and started to drag her toward the exit. "Okay, that's it, we're leaving _now_," she told her firmly, hoping to get her friend out of this, without bloodshed.

As if –

"They're our watchers," somebody exclaimed, so shocked by Jenna's obvious blasphemy that she apparently forgot about the military drill. "We need them to – "

"Oh my God, just listen to yourselves!" Jenna stopped abruptly, forcing Carrie to stop as well, who was still holding her by the arm, trying to pull her to the exit, "You're slayers, for Christ's sake, you don't need anyone! Especially old, powerless tweed guys, whose only ability is reading books! And hey, guess what? You were taught that at the age of six!" she yelled, her eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, and the spirit of Vladimir Lenin, the father of all revolutionists, evidently by her side. "Open your eyes!"

The punch seemed to come out of nowhere. Suddenly Jenna found herself on the ground, sweeping blood from her nose with the back of her hand. Carrie was immediately by her side, helping her get up.

"Let's see, how much _better_ you are, exactly," growled an enraged Kennedy, clenching her fists, one of which was stained with red, spots of Jenna's blood. "You _maggot_."

Infuriated by the unfair attack, Jenna violently shoved Carrie away.

Captain held her arm, ready to throw another punch –

Jenna ducked.

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

"Middle cupboard, third shelf," Jenna muttered to herself, searching for a first-aid kit. She didn't think that getting a stupid kit would cause her so much trouble… Why is the hardest thing to find something you need at the very moment you can't find it? "Oh, thank God!" she exclaimed, when her shaking hands finally rested on a rectangular, white box.

She jumped off the chair she had used to reach the cupboard and ran toward the living room. There, lying calmly on a couch, so weak that she was barely conscious, lay Carrie. It looked like she was trying to sit up straight, but her bleeding head kept lolling over from one side to the other. Jenna knelt by her side and examined the wound one more time.

"I can't see how deep the cut is," she started uncertainly, "but, I think it needs stitches– "

"No doctors," Carrie mumbled.

"No hospitals, no doctors, no medical supplies, no professional help – I get it!" Jenna was getting more and more angry with this stubborn girl, who refused to be taken care of properly. She covered the wound with a bit of gauze, hoping it would, if not stop, then reduce, the bleeding. "Just tell me what to do!"

"Call Spike."

Oh. Call Spike. That was it. So easy. Just pick up the receiver, dial the number and call the vampire.

"Yeah, just like that," Carrie muttered, fighting her own eyelids, that for some reason wanted to fall down and give her eyes some rest.

Jenna blinked. "Uh, like what? Carrie?"

"So easy. Just pick up the receiver, dial the number and call the vampire," Carrie answered, or did she? She didn't seem to talk to anyone in particular… "818-555-4297,"she dictated, her eyes opening and closing, her head still lolling over, her whole body fighting sleepiness.

Fine. She would call and then leave –

"Please, don't go," the hurt girl cried out, grabbing Jenna's wrist. "Don't leave. Wait with me, please? "

Was she that obvious? It looked like she wasn't fooling Carrie, the Perceptive Girl.

"Fine… I'll wait," Jenna promised, reaching for the phone. "But you have to give me your word that you won't faint."

'Or die,' she thought, feeling the hysteria rising in her the more the couch became stained by Carrie's blood.

"Not a chance of both," Carrie smiled weakly, relaxing a little and loosing her grip on the slayer's hand. "818-555-4297," she repeated.

If there were more time, Jenna would wonder what the answer meant, but since she couldn't spare a second, she shook her dark head and focused on the call.

"Yellow," she heard a tired voice.

"It's Jenna… I'm not actually sure if I introduced myself when we met… But maybe Carrie told you my name," she started awkwardly.

"Jenna, the Slayer," Spike confirmed. "Yeah, I know," he hesitated for a second and then asked, "What's wrong?"

Jenna couldn't help herself, "Why do you assume that anything's wrong?"

He snorted, "Yeah, you're callin' from my house to chat about the newest trends in teenage fashion."

Before she could object to this and say that she was not a shallow cheerleader interested only in clothes, he went on, sounding really worried, "It's Carrie, right? Is she fine? Did somethin' happened to her in school? Was she – "

"She's fine," Jenna interrupted his rambling. "More or less," she added, trying to be sincere. "Look, she was attacked in St. James's. I don't know by who or why and I don't think it matters right now. Her head is hurt and it looks bad, but she doesn't want to go to a hospital."

Carrie muttered, "No hospitals."

"I don't know what to do!" Jenna cried, "The cut's still bleeding. It needs to be sewn by a doctor and I'm not one!"

"Calm down. Carrie's right, if she was attacked, we can't take her to a hospital, it's too bloody dangerous. Press the skin 'round the wound with your fingers, it should stop the bleedin'. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," with those words, he hung up.

God, she hoped he would come fast. If not –

"Don't even say that," Carrie pleaded in a weak voice.

"Say what?"

"That he won't come. He will. I know him."

"I didn't say anything," Jenna whispered incredulously.

"But that's what you thought," Carrie replied, smiling very lightly.

'How did she – '

"Don't worry," Carrie sighed, falling asleep. "I won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?"

"About Aunt Dorothy's earrings," Carrie was now barely intelligible. "It's not your fault that the pearls fell out of those golden frames."

Aunt Dorothy's golden earrings – how old was she when it had happened? Five, six years old? Aunt Dorothy came for mum's birthday party. For some reason, which Jenna never found out, Aunt took off her jewelry for a moment, leaving it on the table. Those beautiful things fascinated Jenna; she felt like watching them for hours.

She would take the adornments one by one in her small hands and try them on. The ring was too big, but she liked it anyway. The bracelets were so shiny she couldn't take her eyes of them, she loved the way they jingled on her arms. The pearls felt kinda heavy. What she liked the most, however, were the earrings – golden as well, each one of them with a pearl settled in. She thought they looked like tiny eggs in two miniature nests. But when little Jenna reached for them, as she had before, as they lay on the table above her head, the pearls somehow fell out and rolled on the wooden surface, down to the floor and under the cupboard.

Jenna left Aunt Dorothy's jewelry where she had found it and ran away.

Hidden in the garden, she could hear Auntie's cry, when she found the earrings, without the tiny, beautiful pearls.

Jenna never told anyone what had happened to those pearls. Never.

'Oh my God.'

"How are you doing that?!" she yelped, absolutely freaked out.

Carrie, who was already half asleep and rambling, explained quietly, "I'm a mind reader, don't you know? They do…That's why they came. They came for me… they will come again. They keep coming, 'cause they know… Why don't you…? "

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I consciously paraphrased the garden scene from "Get It Done". Back then, Kennedy's aggressive attitude caused (more or less), Chloe's suicide. I just wanted to confront this character with someone stronger and more independent… And okay, I hate Kennedy. Maybe that's what this was all about. 


	11. Little Things and Nifty Tricks

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me.

A/N: I'd like to thank Fetching Mad Scientist, my lovely Beta. She's really doing a great job. If there's still anything wrong with this chapter, the blame's on me.

Thanks to all the wonderful readers, who reviewed. It makes me feel I'm doing something not only for myself.

* * *

_Greenville, 2005_

Jenna didn't hear him. It wasn't actually her fault, he was a vampire, however her slayerness obliged her to be cautious. On the other hand, try this cautiousness thing, when you've got a bleeding schoolmate on the couch.

"How is she?" Spike crossed the room in a few, long strides. Jenna was still pressing Carrie's temple, reducing the flow of blood from her wound. She thought it must look really ugly – Carrie's head all bloodied, the couch stained and Jenna's own hands red as well. Ugly or… Tasty? Hello, very dangerous vampire standing right there – who knew what he was thinking in that vampire head of his? Although she felt an urge to move away – to run away – as fast as possible, she remained motionless by Carrie's side. She was a slayer on duty; she couldn't just flee, leaving a defenseless girl without any help, if she needed any.

God knows why, but Carrie trusted this undead guy. He claimed to be fighting on the right side, and Jenna hadn't actually caught him as he was hurting anybody. So maybe she should just tell this voice in her head, that had been screaming all the time: "_It's a trap_!"to shut up and let her think clearly.

Silently, Jenna took her hand away, letting Spike see the cut himself. He touched it lightly and – what was absolutely gross – sniffed.

"You were right, it's rather deep," he stated with a worried look in his eyes. "But the blood's clean, so there will be no infection. Do you have the first-aid kit somewhere 'round here?"

"Uh, yeah," she handed Spike the box. He opened it and reached for a pack of clean bandages and a bottle of distilled water. "Good – but not what I was looking for." He got up, scanning the leaving room rapidly, obviously in search of something. And he found it – a small, wooden chest, hidden behind some books. Spike settled on the couch again and started to go through chest's content. When he didn't get what he was looking for, he flipped it upside down – now Jenna could see what was inside: small, colourful bottles, packets of herbs she had never seen before, pieces of paper covered in strange looking words –

"Bring me a small metal bowl and a spoon from the kitchen table," Spike ordered and she immediately got up to… Wait a minute.

"Who died and made you the General?" Jenna complained, crossing arms on her chest and giving him an irritated glare.

"I," he answered without hesitating, "did both in my time. Do as I say. You'll show how independent you are after we patch my Sunbeam up."

Sunbeam – what a stupid nickname. Did evil things nickname anything? How lame was that? But despite her rebellious attitude, she had to agree with him – Carrie was now a priority.

'Uh… Am I agreeing with a _vampire_? The world is definitely doomed,' she thought, shaking her head.

When she brought him the needed utensils, he had already chosen a few packets. Having the tools, Spike started to prepare. The aroma of smashed and mixed herbs was quite strong. In a few minutes, she felt dizzy. Spike didn't look too happy with the overwhelming sensation either – he kept grimacing and wrinkling his nose. Jenna could – if she wanted to, but she didn't – sympathize, 'cause she knew the burden of enhanced senses.

Finally, he put the mixture on Carrie's wound, bandaged her head and took her in his arms. "C'mon, we're takin' her upstairs. Open the door for me, Freckles."

"I have a _name_," she pointed out, annoyed. "Why you don't call people by their real names?"

Spike looked at her with amusement, "Real names, huh? For me they mean nothin'. They don't say a bloody thing 'bout you. 'Bout who you really are, and what makes you unique and special, and distinguishable. And most importantly, they don't say how _I_ feel 'bout you."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, so you noticed I have freckles – how perceptive of you."

"I'm a guy full of surprises," he winked at her and made his way toward the stairs.

Jenna followed him, even warned about a hazardous bedroom entrance, and in the end helped him tuck the unconscious girl into her bed.

And then Carrie started talking.

"I'm fine," she whispered, slightly opening her eyes. "No, it's okay, it doesn't hurt so much any more… Since I hardly feel my head. Spike, it's not your fault, stop blaming yourself… Yeah, I was lucky she happened to be there. I-I don't know, it's all blurred… I hope so. I just… I just have to close my eyes for a second and then… I'll tell you… Love you, too." And she fell asleep for good.

Jenna never thought something like that would happen to her. She never suspected that a few carelessly said words could change her point of view. Stubborn and proud of it – that was her motto. Maybe it was Carrie – maybe she put Jenna under some mojo. Maybe she was charmed all the time, forced to actually like this pink monkey despite herself. Somehow forced to care about her well-being and to feel protective of her, like a sister would. The real Jenna was not only stubborn and rude, she was always suspicious and distrusting everyone around, and would never even approach people she didn't want to have anything to do with. Not to mention coming into the belly of the beast, or in this case, a vampire's lair. She wouldn't talk with this _thing_ like it was her friend. Uh-uh, not her. She wouldn't help him treat "Little Miss I Know What You Did Last Summer". No, sir.

No, sir… She wouldn't help.

Why was she doing it? Why was she helping?

She couldn't help it – they didn't strike her as dangerous. No matter how hard she tried to remember that Spike represented everything she was destined to fight, she wasn't afraid of him. Just like Carrie said – _Beware his stupid hair and British curses nobody understands_. And then, of course, _you can't pretend otherwise – you're already in our club._ So that was it – they won her over. But if she wanted to be honest with herself – she didn't like doing that, but sometimes it was necessary – she would have to admit it's the little things that tipped the scale: Spike's concern about Carrie and the way he treated her. Carrie's trustfulness, confidence and faith in him, in the vampire –

Yes, it was obvious to her now – in the vampire with a soul.

Jenna envied Carrie – she envied having someone who really cared for her. Who after one call, one stupid phone call, had left everything behind and run home to check on her, to help her… Jenna's own parents – real, human and very alive – hardly spoke to her. They were too busy fighting with each other to notice her. She existed only when she could provoke another argument – who was supposed to pick her up after school, who should have made a dinner for her – then, she was suddenly the most important person in the world. But only for a while.

Was she jealous of a dead man's affection? Actually, yeah.

'Stop right now,' Jenna scolded herself, and tried to focus on what was happening here and now. Okay, so she believed them. She might even like them – but only a little. Boo-hoo, like it had changed anything. She wasn't getting soft. Jenna was still the Slayer… She would just pretend she didn't notice Spike's deadness and Carrie's freakiness. Letting them go wasn't the end of the world – was it?

Certain that Carrie was safe and asleep, the vampire turned his attention to Jenna. His pale face darkened. Taking an unneeded breath, he led her downstairs.

"I owe you," Spike stated quietly, when they were back in the living room. "You saved her life. And by doin' so, you saved yours truly as well," he smiled lightly.

"What do you care?" Jenna asked, in search of some kind of confirmation for her previous assumptions.

"I do. She's all I have. She's my," he laughed and shook his white head. "I know how it sounds, but she's my personal piece of light. She's a sun, that doesn't burn. She's my bloody salvation. Right now, I'm in your debt. You can ask for anythin' you want… Assumin' you want anythin' from an evil bloodsucker like me," he smirked.

Jenna looked at him, "I can arrange that."

"So? Wanna some help during the next patrol? Need an unattainable magical ingredient? – "

"I want answers. Who are you?"

"Already told ya. I'm just a vampire. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, Spike… Recently souled up and, as an acquaintance of mine once put it, 'Playin' for the good guys now'."

"All right. And, who's Carrie?" She challenged.

Spike remained silent, looking away.

"Look, buddy, for the whole evening she kept answering questions I haven't actually asked. She started babbling about something that I have never told anyone about. Five minutes ago, she had a very long conversation with you, however you didn't say a word. And oh, yeah, she mentioned being a mind reader… She's a telepath, isn't she? How stupid do you think I am?"

Spike's eyes gleamed, "Really wanna know?"

Jenna didn't feel like joking from such a serious matter, "Stop making fun! She told me she had nearly died because of what she is, you idiot!"

"You think I don't know that?" he shouted at her, taking her by surprise. One moment he was kidding, and two seconds later he was yelling… Mentally unstable _much_? "You think I'm not worried? That I don't look for a better solution than hidin' in this soddin' hell hole? Newsflash, Freckles – all I think about is Carrie. All I think about is how I can't keep her bloody safe," he snarled.

The Slayer blinked, his words slowly sinking in, "What do you mean… H-hiding? Here? In Greenville?"

"I think you should go," Spike grabbed her arm and started to drag her toward the exit. "You already know too much. If this is too weird for you to handle – "

"I'm a slayer, for crying out loud!" Jenna struggled. "_Weird_ is my middle name!"

Spike stopped abruptly, letting her go. He blinked a few times and touched his forehead. "Stop doin' that," he complained. "You know I bloody hate it."

"Well, it's your fault, you're the one who hurt my arm," Jenna told him accusingly.

"It's too dangerous. I'm not even sayin' that she may… You know. But there are many ways to make a person talk. Ugly ways, might I add."

And then Jenna understood, "Oh my _God_, you two can communicate like _that_?" She exclaimed in awe.

Spike looked at her, he seemed dizzy and confused, "Yeah, looks like this whole soddin' telepathy gig is a two-way street. And shouldn't you be asleep?" Again, not talking to Jenna. "Are you listening to me at all? No, it's not _your_ life and it's not _your_ call. You'll have a life and something to say when you're older. Fifty-three years older… Ow!" He grabbed his head.

"What was that?" Jenna asked curiously.

Spike sighed, "A mental equivalent of a kick in the ankle." He massaged his forehead, then shot her a wondering glare, "Is it true that you're, uh, watcher-less?"

"It's none of your business," she started defensively.

To her surprise, he winked at her. "Bloody annoyin', aren't they?"

"And useless. And treacherous," she added with a conspiratorial smile.

"Who's trainin' you, if you don't have a tweed guy of your own?"

"Jean Claude Van Damm, Steven Seagal, Jackie Chan… What?" She asked, seeing he was raising an eyebrow. "I don't need a teacher, I'm capable of learning myself. I watch films, I read books. I'm self-sufficient I'll have you know – "

"Need a sparrin' partner?"

She stared at him agape. "What? You want me to spar… With you? With a _vampire_?"

Spike nodded, "Wouldn't be a first time I play the honourable role of a soddin' punchin' bag. And wouldn't be a first time I train with a slayer."

"I-I still don't know if I trust you," she forced out. Truth be told, she did, she couldn't help it. Trust appeared to be something beyond her reasoning. It just kicked her in the ass, shut up the Voice of Suspicion, and said that Spike wouldn't hurt her.

That Spike was nothing like Rutheford.

"Well, that's not fair, is it?" he reasoned. "Since I have to trust you. You know about Carrie, you know that we're wanted. I actually should just take you out without a second glance," he admitted.

"And instead, you propose me a sparring session… How do I know it's not a trap?"

"Why would I waste my precious time on setting a bleedin' trap, if I could kill you here and now?"

"What's in it for you?"

"Like a bit of ol' rough 'n' tumble myself."

"Uh-huh, try again, pal."

Spike looked directly at her, his face very serious, "Told you I'm a white hat now. The goodness of my heart wouldn't let me leave you on your own, without any help. What's more… I knew a girl, once," he suddenly sounded very far away, even sentimental." We were even… friends, of some kind. She would never forgive me if I walked away from someone like you. And besides, Carrie likes you. Says you have fire and a spirit," the vampire smirked again. "Says you need us. She's never wrong, you know. Better to listen her, no matter how much we don't like that she bosses us 'round like that."

"I-I have to think about it – "

"Good. Tomorrow, come here after school. We'll talk some more and then I'll show a few tricks that would surprise even ol' Jackie."

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

Jenna hit the wall.

"Get up," Kennedy laughed, slowly approaching her. "The fight's not over. Thinking you're better, thinking we're beneath you… You know what you really are? A worthless piece of _shit_."

Jenna finally managed to stand up. Every single limb hurt, the pain was seering and overwhelming –

Kennedy attacked again, but Jenna dodged her incredibly fast series of kicks and punches. She didn't know how long they were playing like that – yes, _playing_ was the most accurate word. Jenna acted carefully, probing her opponent and Kennedy knew that – with an unpleasant smile she was showing Jenna what she was capable of. And although most of her own throws were missing the target, Jenna's blows cut the thin air as well. Playing. That's what they were doing –

Jenna hit the wall once more.

How could she win? How could she even think of winning over Captain Kennedy Fitzgerald? Kennedy was stronger, faster, older and more experienced. And if what Cath told her was true, she survived the great Sunnydale Battle. And Jenna was a fourteen-year-old-girl, who knew nothing about the other slayers, about their methods and techniques.

"C'mon, you maggot, let's not prolong the inevitable," Captain challenged. "You can't run forever. Face it, girl – I'm not even a little tired. And you look… Actually, you look _beat_," she chuckled. "Okay, I don't know about you, but I'm done playing."

_"Spike, I'm done playing," she complained after an hour of sparring. He kept throwing punches and she kept ducking – but they actually haven't managed to hit each other for more than a few times. "Let's fight for real."_

_"How do you know this isn't a real fight?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, which, as she had learned after two months of knowing him, meant he was curious and amused at once._

_"__In a real fight, mostly I hit things," she rolled her eyes._

_"You want to hit things, pet? Start a bar brawl."_

_"Ha ha. Very funny."_

_"I'm serious here. The real fight – not that I don't appreciate it, but it lacks style. It's all fists and fangs, the lowest instincts and brutal force. That's what you want to learn? You don't need a bloody teacher for that, just somethin' that will make you angry enough to set you loose," he snorted._

_"But what we're doing – it's pointless!" Jenna exclaimed._

_"And that's all your fault."_

_"Mine? I'm doing my best to beat you!" She felt offended._

_"Exactly. All you can think 'bout is winning."_

_"You're the one who told me to 'sod the fair fight and win on any account'. I have to win, but I can't think about it? It doesn't make any sense," she complained._

_"'Course it does," he shrugged in response. "While fighting, you switch off your mind and let the body take over. You stop thinking, 'cause planning slows you down. Some moves you have to learn by heart, some reactions have to be independent from your reasoning. Never play with your opponent like it's a game – games are always played on some terms and you can never know who set the rules. Don't fight, don't think, don't play – just close your eyes – "_

_"And then what?"_

_"And then – dance."_

Jenna opened her eyes. "Yeah, you're right," she said through gritted teeth and raised from the floor. "The game's over." To everyone's surprise, she grinned unpleasantly. "Let's dance."

Jenna lunged forward with new strength and a clear mind. She threw a powerful punch directed into her opponent's face, but in fact she was aiming for the stomach – using those two seconds that Kennedy needed to protect her head, Jenna kicked her in the guts. Captain stumbled backwards, but regained the balance and, enraged, struck back, however without previous confidence. Jenna avoided each blow with unbelievable speed and grace.

Not fighting, not thinking, not playing any more – but dancing to the music only she could hear –

And then, she hit the wall for the third time.

Jenna hung over some bare, protruding from the wall pipe, probably a part of the old hydraulic system, clinging to it for dear life. Her body seemed weak and limp and it made her look like a whipped rag doll. It made her look beat.

Kennedy smiled triumphantly, "What's the matter, girl? Has the music stopped? Stand up and let's fight for real, slayer to slayer – "

She didn't finish. Something hit her hard, and unexpectedly, in the head, and then in the stomach, and as she bent to protect herself, she felt something strike her in the back, sending her to the floor. Barely able to move, Kennedy moaned in pain.

"Music's still on, can't you hear it?" Jenna asked her, still clenching the pipe she had pulled out from the installation a second earlier.

For a very long moment, everyone in the basement stood motionless, frozen, too shocked to do anything. But when this moment passed, thirty frightened, confused and pissed off slayers charged at Jenna.

* * *

**A/N:** Anybody noticed that Jenna did the similar thing Spike performed during parents' meeting in "School Hard"? I mean the_ripping a weapon out of the wall_ trick. It was absolutely cool when he beat up Buffy with this wooden beam and since he was Jenna's teacher I made her think the same way. And okay, I wanted to bash Kennedy. She was unbearably bitchy in the previous chapter and she needed a lesson.

I also know that I've neglected the Buffy/Spike theme. That's because I've got caught up in my own trap – I've created two new characters with their own stories that needed to be told. Fortunately, the most important things are already behind us, so in the next chapter Spike and Buffy will finally have a little conversation… Don't worry, I know what I'm writing – it's still a Spuffy story.


	12. Doctor Jekyll

**Disclaimer:** Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. 

**A/N: **Great thanks to **FetchingMad Scientist**, my absolutely wonderful Beta reader.**  
**

* * *

_Los Angeles, 2006_

Jenna walked through Hyperion's corridors silently, trying not to think about the overwhelming pain, her face grim and determined. By her side, beat to a pulp, humiliated and fuming, stumbled Kennedy. A red-haired young woman and a bulky dark guy with an idiotic eye-patch led them. Both hadn't said a word since they had strode into the basement, when they broke up the fighting slayers.

Jenna had been too busy searching for Carrie, who had disappeared from the training room, to notice five slayers encircling her. They ran towards a still-stretched-on-the-floor Kennedy, and helped her to her feet. As expected, Captain accused Jenna of attacking her without warning and fighting unfair. Jenna said nothing, too proud to make excuses. But the pirate-like man and his companions had remained silent, quietly leading them upstairs. The slayers started to whisper in fear, "Ma'am, they're going to Ma'am! Ma'am will be the one to judge them."

The whole way, Kennedy kept throwing worried glances towards the redhead, but none of her looks were returned. Jenna didn't need Carrie to know what was going on – for some reason, this woman was utterly pissed with Captain. Were they friends, or maybe a family? Oh, _whatever_. Like it mattered right now.

The woman opened one of the doors and Jenna found herself in the General's room. It was a small study. Sitting in a big, leather armchair and reading an old book was – to her displeasure – Rupert Giles. Seeing Jenna, he immediately started to polish his glasses. By his side, stretched comfortably on a couch, was a petite blonde, her face completely hidden behind some colourful fashion magazine – a typical brainless, former cheerleader secretary. And behind a wide, oak desk sat another young woman – tall and classically beautiful, with big brown eyes and long, straight hair in the same colour. She was studying some old scrolls – sheets of yellow paper were covering the whole wooden surface of the table, from which she would take notes.

'So this is how she looks,' Jenna thought with sudden respect she didn't think she felt for anybody tied to the Council, 'Buffy Summers, the Mother Slayer, the General – Ma'am.'

It was Giles who spoke first, "Xander, Willow, is something wrong?" then he noticed Kennedy's and Jenna's state, "Dear Lord, what happened?"

"That's the question everybody's asking themselves," the guy with the eye patch walked to the desk and sat on it, looking at the beaten up slayers. "Well, who's going to tell us the whole story?"

"Oh my God, Kennedy, are you all right?" Ma'am asked, leaving her translations and approaching the Captain.

"She's fine," the woman – Willow – answered, still avoiding Kennedy's eyes. "But you should have seen what was going on down there – "

"All that was missing was the oil," Xander said dreamily, earning scolding glares from his companions. "Uh, I meant, _hot_ oil… like, you know, a horrible, Middle Ages weapon. It, uh, it would be like an _apocalypse_ – "

"Thank you, Xander, for another of your unnecessary commentaries," Giles chimed in, irritated. "Kennedy, could you tell us, what – or who – did this to you two?"

"I fear you ask the wrong question, my dear Watson," the pirate wannabe dreadfully imitated Giles's English accent. "Since we already know that _they_ are the ones who did this to themselves. The question is – _why_?"

"They got into a _fight_?" the Watcher exclaimed in utter shock. "This – this is beyond my imagination… I would understand such childish behaviour from two of your subordinates, but you, Kennedy? You disappoint me. We made you a trainer for a reason – "

"Slow down, G-man," Xander cut in, raising both hands in a calming gesture. "Let's not jump to conclusions. First, we have to hear what they have to say. Am I right, Buffster?"

And then it happened, something Jenna expected the least – the beautiful, young woman she had considered the Head Slayer went to the couch, and with an ostentatious eye-roll, ripped the magazine out of the blonde's hands.

"Hey!" the woman complained, "I was reading that!"

"Buffy, have you heard a word of what we were talking about?" The tall girl asked.

"Well,_duh_," this time Buffy – the real Buffy Summers – rolled her eyes. "I'm a woman. I can multi-task."

"You can't drive a car."

"You save the world at least once a year and all you hear are complaints," she sighed. " I can live without a car."

"Well, since you've got a _chauffeur_ – "

"Silence!" Giles shouted. "Please, Buffy, Dawn, I remind you that you're both on duty."

"The older he gets, the more boring he is," Buffy muttered.

Jenna was confused… Well, it was a very subtle word for the state of pure astonishment and knocking-out shock she felt. First, this training circus, then a pointless fight, and now she was going to answer to a blonde, who looked as if thinking foreign was to her.

And she thought pretending a century old vampire was an eccentric cousin was strange.

"Right-o," Jenna spoke, "I see you're all very busy with this little chit-chat about nothing… Would hate to intrude, so I'll be going now," she took a few steps backwards, praying she got away from those freaks. "But, hey! Don't worry! I'll call ya someday." She turned to the door and noticed that between her and the safer part of the planet stood two slayers. Not good. She turned around again and noticed, with growing anxiety, that Buffy's short figure had straightened up; her cute face became serious, even severe, and eyes cold and dispassionate. Jenna could believe this woman was one of the top guys. Girls. Whatever.

"Oh, how nice of you," Buffy said, her voice too friendly to be true. "Fortunately, I _always_ have time for my slayers." She ignored meaningful glares Giles was giving her and carried on, crossing her arms, becoming a completely different person, far from the one who had made an impression on Jenna at first. "You," she told the slayers who were guarding the door, "wait outside. Kennedy, because your friend's not cooperating, could you please, start?"

Captain swallowed and looked at Willow, but getting no support there, she raised her head and finally spoke with hatred, "Sincerely, Buffy? Hell if I know… She showed up on today's workout session and started to mess around. So, I mentioned she was doing the exercises wrong and she attacked me! Of course, I had no trouble kicking her ass. I showed her her place, but when I wasn't looking, she struck me with a _pipe_. A _pipe_, Buffy! From behind! She – she's dangerous, and treacherous. She should be punished, banned and isolated from the rest of the slayers," with each word Kennedy was becoming more and more angry, her face visibly reddened.

Jenna was insolent and self-confident enough to tell all of them that Kennedy was a lying bitch, who was trying to save her own ass. Jenna would have no problem with informing them about her sadistic nature and the way she treated the girls. Maybe they knew about it. Okay, it was a possibility. But if they didn't, Jenna could, in less than ten words, make Captain regret she had ever raised her voice at anybody.

Yes, Jenna knew she could do that. But along with insolence, self-confidence, and having a big mouth, Jenna was also incredibly proud. Making excuses and explaining herself meant lowering to that bitch's level – now _that_ would be humiliating.

"Whoa," the tall girl, who was supposed to be Ma'am, but appeared to be only someone named Dawn, cut into Kennedy's tirade. "That's, I mean, that's a serious accusation, what you're saying. Shouldn't we, I don't know, interrogate witnesses, or ask this, uh, what's-her-name? – "

"Jennifer," it was Giles, who answered that, "Jennifer Abrams." He looked at Willow and Xander, who understood immediately.

Unfortunately, Buffy didn't.

"Well then, _Jennifer_," Ma'am said, "is it true that you hit Captain Fitzgerald with a pipe?"

"Yeah."

"Uh-huh. So not only did you assaulted your foreman, you also cheated and fought unfair?"

"If you say so."

Buffy was starting to lose her patience, "I didn't _say_ anything. I'm asking questions here."

"Let's just say, I would argue about who assaulted whom, and how _fair_ this whole fight from the beginning," Jenna told her daringly.

"So Kennedy was the first one to cheat?"

"That's ridiculous!" Kennedy shouted. "Thirty girls from my group will confirm that I fought fair! Buffy, just think about it – why would I use any tricks? She's just a kid, for Christ's sake – "

" – Inexperienced, not as fast, not as strong," Jenna added. "Was that fair?" she asked people gathered in the study, "What did you expect?" she turned to Kennedy, "That I would wait patiently until you beat the crap out of me and made me an example for those brainless idiots… Oh, sorry – your_subordinates_. Maybe I should just surrender? Are you nuts?!"

"You shouldn't start a fight in the first place," Buffy reasoned. "You know the rules, as a part of the Council – "

"Buffy, before you say anything more, you have to know – " Giles tried to chime in.

"Your whole Council can kiss my ass!" Jenna shouted. "Screw the rules! Screw the Council, and screw _you_!"

"Language."

Everybody turned to the door, where Spike stood looking casual, but looking very angry too.

" – that Jenna came here yesterday with _Spike_," Giles finished with a resigned sigh.

"Oh," Buffy blinked, obviously taken aback, "and you couldn't tell me this earlier, because? – "

"Because you didn't let me say a word," her Watcher complained.

"What are you doing here?" Jenna asked the vampire, slightly nervous. 'How does he know?' she kept asking herself; and why Carrie wasn't with him? She studied his scowling face, and boy, was he pissed.

"I could ask you the same question," Spike responded. "Which part of my stay-out-of-trouble tirade did you _not,_ bloody, understand?"

"I'm fine," she quickly assured him, but all she earned was another angry look.

"Yeah, and I caught Carrie tryin' to snitch my shotgun and yellin' somethin' 'bout '_shooting every fuckin' bitch that wanted to harm her sister' _– 'cause you're _doin'_fine," Spike taunted with a raised eyebrow.

"A_shotgun_? What shotgun? _No shotguns_," Xander babbled senselessly, being threatened by the idea of the weapon.

"Silence!" Again, Giles took control over the situation. Xander looked ashamed of his panic; Willow stayed in her corner with her head lowered, avoiding the pleading glares Kennedy was sending her; Buffy hid her awkwardness and confusion behind a wall of attitude. Dawn seemed to be purely curious; Jenna looked suddenly uncertain, and avoided Spike's eyes. Spike stood nonchalantly with his arms crossed, and seemed to not care about the whole situation. Jenna, on the other hand, knew him well enough to be afraid of his suspicious calmness.

"Nobody's going to harm anybody," Giles continued.

"Being in the same room as an undead serial killer, I wouldn't promise that, G-man," Xander gave the vampire a meaningful and hostile glare.

"Xander," the Watcher said with irritation, "do me a favour and stay out of this."

"Okay, guys," Dawn said with a conciliative smile, "we can see how manly you are, so you can give up this pissing contest of yours. All we want to know is what happened in the basement."

"The basement?" Spike frowned questioningly. So – he didn't know.

"Carrie didn't tell you anything?" Jenna asked with hope. There was still a chance of getting out of this mess without Spike yelling, scowling and lecturing her until the end of the world. Which, considering the circumstances, could be very soon.

"Let's say it wasn't the most coherent of her moments. So?"

"Oh, just look at them," Giles grimly indicated the cuts and bruises both slayers were covered in, "They didn't fall from the stairs, that's certain."

Spike would have to be blind not to notice their poor state. Unfortunately for Jenna, he wasn't. His pale face darkened dangerously. "What did she do?"

There was something unbearably irritating in the tone of his voice – A strange mix of reproach, disappointment and paternal-like concern – that set Jenna off immediately, broke all her defences and brought up the whiny teenager that hid behind the rebellious slayer. "I didn't do anything!" She complained. "You always think the worst of me!"

"I didn't say anythin' 'bout you," he challenged. "But ol' doctor Freud claims that, judgin' from the way you felt offended, your conscience's not as lily white as it was this mornin'."

"It's not my fault!"

"I didn't hit myself with a pipe," Kennedy argued.

"Wait. There was a pipe?" Spike looked confused.

"Yeah… but she _so_ asked for it!"

"I heard that one four months ago. Bystanders swore that boy was sayin' many interestin' things, however, he didn't tell you to hang him from the soddin' window by his knickers."

"He was a mean, chauvinistic pig, and to me that equals asking for a lesson!"

"Oh, and Kennedy?"

"She started it! This morning we met this girl, she's a slayer, and it was Carrie's bright idea that I join her training session; so, we went there and everything was fine until this psychopath started to pick on me, and wanted to brainwash me, and change into a thoughtless automaton like the rest of slayers! I didn't want to listen to her and I wanted to wake those girls up, and tell them they're being used. Then she hit me, without warning! I'm telling you that this whole Council's absolutely evil! And, I don't want to be here!"

Silence.

"Wow," Xander whispered in awe, "that was fast. And I thought that Wills was a babbler."

"I am quite certain that you misunderstood Kennedy's intentions," Giles said quietly.

"Don't you tell me what I understood and what I didn't," Jenna snapped back. "I'm way past any watcher bossing me around."

She unintentionally made a few steps in Spike's direction

"Is it true, what she's sayin'?" the vampire asked.

As if on a command, everybody looked at Kennedy.

Captain's face became even redder, but after a second of hesitation, she answered with challenging tone, "Not a word."

Spike glanced at Jenna, whose hurt eyes were conveying all the betrayal she felt because of someone doubting her words. "Listen, _Kenny_," he accented the moniker, "I've known Jenna for two bloody years now, and I can tell that, as skillful and quick-learnin' she is, she's never mastered one ability. Jenna's the soddin' worst liar I've ever met." His eyes bore into hers. "And guess what? She's not the only one in this room."

"How dare you call me that, you filthy bloodsucker! "

"Hey, watch your mouth! He is _not_ filthy!" Jenna felt the urge to defend the vampire.

Maybe it would all end with another fight if someone didn't intervene. And who would start it? It didn't matter.

God, being the General really sucked.

"That's enough!" Buffy shouted, absolutely Giles-like. Buy her a pair of unfashionable glasses and a tweed suit, and it would be impossible to tell the difference.

"Nobody talks, goes in or out of this room, 'til I say so."

"That's exactly wha – "

"I think I was pretty clear about the talking part, Giles." Giles looked utterly hurt, but he stayed quiet. "Because those two," she pointed to the battered girls, "can't agree what happened, we have to find it out another way. Xander, Dawn, you'll talk to the girls from Kennedy's unit. Tell them that they will be punished for lying, so no heroic friends' ass-saving."

"Yes, Ma'am," Xander mocked a stiff salute.

"And what about my translation?" Dawn whined. "Unlike _some_ people, I was working here!"

Buffy glared at her. Dawn rolled her eyes and joined Xander.

"Since when do I listen to her?" she asked him incredulously.

He smiled. "Oh, you probably remember her signing those papers that made her your legal guardian?"

"Damn," the girl sighed, leaving the study with him.

Buffy continued, "Willow, take Kennedy to your room and make sure she won't contact any slayer."

Captain's eyes narrowed dangerously. It didn't matter, if it was Buffy's duty as the General to investigate the case. The message was clear: Kennedy wasn't trusted anymore. For her, It felt like the worst betrayal. Her lips made a thin line, making her whole face grim, as she followed Willow out of the room.

Jenna, on the other hand, looked utterly pleased –

"Giles, you go with Jody."

– But not for long.

"It's_Jenna_," she corrected angrily, "and I'm neither going anywhere with _him_, "she pointed at Giles, "nor leaving Spike alone with _you_," her slim finger turned in Buffy's direction.

The Watcher took the pair of glasses off his nose and started polishing them. "This may come as a surprise to you," he said evenly, "but I agree with Jennifer. I don't think that – "

"Giles," Buffy's voice was threateningly calm, "Spike and I have some catching up to do, concerning, mostly, teenage girls with superpowers. Leave us."

Giles gave her a long, anxious look, but oblidged. "I hope you know what you're – "

"Spike!" Jenna shouted. "She's nuts, like the rest of them! She'll stake you or – "

"Freckles. Out."

She was paralysed with shock. Spike had never talked to her like that. She wanted to say something sarcastic and insolent, but while she was still thinking of an answer good enough for him, Giles gently pushed her toward the doors. She didn't even notice when she found herself on the other side of them.

And behind those doors fell silence. And then –

"Hello, Buffy," he smiled gentler than usual. Totally unlike him. "Long time, no see."

"Hello, Spike," she smiled shyer than usual. Totally unlike her –

"What the freaking hell are you doing here?!"

Ah, the yelling was a lot more like her.


End file.
